The Best and Worst of Times
by Ridley C. James
Summary: The holiday season brings Sam and Dean face to face with an unexpected evil, teaching them that sometimes in the darkest of moments, the worst in others brings out the best in ones self.
1. Chapter 1

The Best and Worst of Times

By: Ridley James

Rating: T-for language

Disclaimer: Santa ignored my patented plea yet again this year, so alas nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

Author's Notes: This story is a parallel tale for Tidia's story _Charge Their Doings. _Although they are seperate, this one will make much more sense if you read chapter one of her story first. This takes place in present time in The Brotherhood AU. NO **new** second season characters are used in this story. I know some people are sensitive to that. So it should be a safe, whether you feel as I do or whether you are a fan. Last but not least, I want to say a big thank you for your patience as I have been cast in technological pergatory. I have my baby back now, as of today, and I should be able to meet deadlines. bg. All your kind words helped, I'm sure. Now, on with the story.

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"_**I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is the darkest, the wind the coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses." **_

_**-Taylor Caldwell **_

"Dude if I hear one more rendition of a White Christmas, I swear to God I may pull out my piece and pop somebody."

Sam cast a half-smile in his brother's direction. The older hunter was sitting across from him in the tinsel-decorated booth, stuffing his face with the last pieces of his BLT. Apparently the owner of the Three Cousins Diner was a very festive person. He was giving away a free dessert to anyone willing to perform a Christmas song of their chosing on the brand new Karaoke system. "Dude, what is up with the Ebenezer routine? What has Santa ever done to you?"

Dean took a drink of his Coke, frowning at his younger brother. "In case I haven't cleared this up for you before, Sammy, Santa doesn't exist."

"So, who brought me that Optimus Prime when I was six?"

The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "Don't start with that again."

"You don't know, do you?" Sam's grin widened. "Neither you nor Dad bought it. And Pastor Jim was too far away." He pointed his fork at his brother. "Santa is the only reasonable explanation."

"I think Santa and reasonable explanation is what we in the real world call an oxy-moron, little brother."

Sam shook his head. "When did you become such a cynic, Dean?"

"I'm not a cynic. I'm a realist."

Sam shook his head, finishing off the last of his fries. "You worked awful hard to make sure I believed in the big guy.'

Dean waved off the observation. "No I didn't."

"Dean, I got beat up in the fifth grade because I still believed in Santa."

A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Dean's mouth. "Hey, I made sure those bullies got what was coming to them."

Sam exhaled loudly. "My point is…you always tried to keep the whole Christmas thing…" He searched for the right word.

"Normal?" Dean supplied, with a raised brow.

The younger hunter nodded, his eyes solemn. "Yeah." That was exactly what his brother did.

"You're welcome." Dean went back to eating, his dour mood not improved, which had been Sam's intentions.

"So…when did you stop believing?"

Dean lifted his gaze from his plate, shooting his brother a 'could you give it a rest' look. When Sam didn't blink, he put down his drink. "I was six…almost."

Sam swallowed, thickly. "Who told you?"

"Caleb."

The younger man frowned. That didn't make sense. Reaves was usually his brother's partner in deception when their families would often end up together on the Holidays. "Why did he tell you?"

Dean shrugged, wiping his hands on the red and green napkin. "It wasn't like I didn't already have a good idea. And he was just trying to spare me some grief."

Sam raised a brow. "By telling you there was no Santa?"

"Yes." Dean's hard look told his sibling he was in the sharing and caring mood and that he should drop it.

"He bought me the Transformer, didn't he?"

Dean grabbed the check. "Are you ready? I want to make it to Charlotte before five."

Sam watched him go towards the cash register, as he stood. The feeling that it was going to be a very long ride to North Carolina destroyed the little holiday cheer he had managed to grasp as he gathered his things.

The hunter's fingers had just wrapped around the journal Caleb had given him a few weeks earlier when a sharp pain lanced through his head, causing him to drop the book and reach for the table to stop himself from crashing to the floor. "Ahhh," His hands grasped blindly for stability, but instead his arm swiped across the table, sending empty plates and glasses crashing to the tiled floor.

"Sam!" At the sound of his brother's distress, Dean whirled from his forced conversation with the elf ringing him up . Sam's face was twisted in pain, his hands clutching at the sides of his head. "Fucking visions," the oldest Winchester hissed, rushing to the booth just as Sam sent the remains of their lunch shattering around him.

"Hey." Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders, keeping him from collapsing amongst the glittering shards of glass. "Sammy?"

Two waitresses in reindeer antlers galloped to their aid and Dean had to bit his lip to keep from telling them to scamper right on back to the fucking North Pole. "Oh my!" Dancer proclaimed. "Is he alright, Darlin'?"

"Should I call an ambulance?" Prancer asked.

Then Santa joined in the circus, bounding from out of the kitchen. He was holding a dripping spatula. The white T-shirt stretched across his round belly full of jelly was covered with grease smears and suspicious-looking red stains. "If he's on something, just take his high ass right on out of here."

"Shut up!" Dean glared at the man in the red hat. "He's having a seizure." It wasn't the truth, but it saved them a lot of trouble in the explanation department because _'my brother is a psychic and he's witnessing someone's imminent doom'_ just didn't provoke much empathy. People could deal with epilepsy.

"Oh my, should I stick something in his mouth?" Dancer asked.

Dean gave her a look that clearly let her know if she laid one hoof on his brother, she wouldn't be in shape to pull the sleigh this year.

"Just back off," he growled. "He needs some space." Dean moved his gaze to Prancer who had that deer in the headlights look, and was grasping a cordless phone in her hand. "And no ambulance. It's okay."

The older hunter wasn't sure if it was okay or not, because he could feel his brother shaking beneath his grasp. He was curled against Dean, as if trying to shield himself from the torture he was going through. The big brother in Dean shouted for him to do something, to kill whatever it was hurting Sam. But there was nothing to shoot or salt, so he did all that he could, which was sit on his fucking hands, helpless.

He suddenly felt guilty for not reading the journal Caleb had given his brother. After all, it had Mac's notes for helping his son learn to deal with the whole psychic thing. Dean had let his anger at Reaves feed his stubborn denial. Sam did not need the damn journal. He didn't need it either. "Come on, Sammy," Dean breathed, letting one of his hands rest on his brother's shoulder, the other in his hair. "Just breathe through it, kiddo."

"Dean?" Sam choked, and the sound of his pain-laced voice tore into Dean like a hungry wolf.

"I'm here."

"Caleb…" Sam gasped, rocking forward, holding his head tighter.

"Sam?" Dean felt a sudden surge of panic as his brother nearly pulled free from his grasp when more pain shook his lanky frame. "Come on, man."

"I don't understand…" Sam mumbled and just when Dean thought he might rethink the whole ambulance thing, his brother went lax in his arms.

"Shit," he cursed as the sudden dead weight nearly threw him off balance.

"Oh my!" Dancer cried. Dean decided the woman really needed to come up with a new catch phrase. "Bless his heart. Dora call the paramedics!"

"Sam!" Dean growled, his jaw clenching as he quickly brought his fingers to his brother's throat. His pulse was strong, but too quick. He looked up just as Bad Santa and a few of the other patrons had formed a circle around him and his unconscious brother. "He's just passed out, it's normal after an episode."

No it's not, his mind shouted at him, but he refused to listen. "There's a room in the back." Prancer or Dora finally found her voice, but she continued to tarry with the phone. "He could rest there, right Larry?"

Larry, A.K.A Kris Kringle, grunted. "I reckon, but you two get back to work. I'm running a business here not an inn."

Dean started to refuse, but another big, bearded man had already reached down to help him with Sam. "Let me give you a hand there, son."

His trucking company shirt read _Jim _and Dean didn't miss the fact the man had kind blue eyes and a wild mess of silver hair. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

Jim took one arm, Dean the other, and Dora led the way. Between the three of them they managed to get his brother settled on the tiny cot, in the cramped quarters. "Are you sure you don't want me to call an ambulance, sweetie?"

"No." Dean shook his head, reassured by the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest. "He'll be okay."

"Okay," Prancer backed out of the room, because there wasn't space enough between the can-lined shelves and upright freezer to turn around. "But you yell if you need anything."

Dean nodded and Jim flashed him a sympathetic smile. "Brother, right?"

The older Winchester shoved a hand through his hair, and then rubbed it across his face. "Yeah."

"Have a couple myself. Pains in the asses, but I wouldn't trade them." Jim nodded towards Sam. "If you change your mind about the hospital and don't want to do the whole lights and sirens thing, I have my truck out front. I can do a pit stop at the local clinic."

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe there was a Santa Clause. "Thanks. I'm just going to…"

Dean didn't get the words out of his mouth before Sam started coming around. "Sam?"

Jim excused himself just as the younger hunter blinked his eyes open, looking around dazedly at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Dean?"

Dean sat on the edge of the cot, in his brother's line of sight. "Dude, if this was your way for paying me back for being a jerk it's a little over the top."

"What…Where are we?"

"What? Don't you recognize Santa's workshop?"

Sam winced, bringing his hand up to rub at his forehead. "Damn it."

"You okay?" Dean dropped the joking tone, and his brother looked at him, lines of pain still all-too visible on the younger man's shadowed face.

"I'm okay." Sam swallowed back the bad taste that had suddenly seemed to coat his mouth. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Who's freaked out?" Dean feigned offense. "I was in complete control?"

"You didn't kill anybody did you?"

"No! I can control myself, you know. I'm getting use to the whole vision routine. Although, I got to say if you keep changing up the moves on me, bro…"

"It wasn't a vision," Sam said suddenly, struggling to sit up against his brother's restraining hands.

"Whoa," Dean told him as he tipped dangerously close to the edge of the cot. "Take it easy."

Sam shook his head. "No…Dean we have to go."

"I thought it wasn't a vision." Dean searched his brother's face. "What the hell was it? And what's the big hurry?"

Sam licked his lips, swallowing again. "I…don't know. It was like…" He struggled to explain it. "I think someone was trying to contact me."

Dean sat back, his hands slipping from his brother's shoulder. "Come again?"

"It was like a call for help."

"Like a 'reach out and touch someone' kind of call for help?"

"Yes." The psychic frowned. He'd had the feeling before, to some degree, but never since getting his abilities. It was intense like a vision and just as painful, but no images came with it. There was something…but he couldn't quite grasp it.

"You said Caleb's name." Dean's hand had found Sam's wrist again. He tightened to regain his brother's attention. "Sammy? You asked for Caleb. Could it have been him?"

Sam felt his own heart rate pick up as he saw the raw fear race through Dean's green eyes. His brother hadn't told him all the ends and outs of why exactly they were going to North Carolina. Dean covered with the simple story that he didn't trust Joshua to be the kind of back-up Caleb usually needed, and with John no longer around…"I don't know, Dean. I don't remember saying his name."

Dean nodded, then glanced anxiously towards the door. "You okay to hit the road?"

The younger hunter recognized the battle of concern and duty waging in his brother's gaze. "I'm okay." He reached out his hand for Dean to help him up. "Let's get to North Carolina."

They saw the cityscape of Charlotte rise before them with the sunset and Dean checked his watch for about the tenth time. "You think Sawyer will still be in his office? It's almost five."

"He works for one of the biggest PR firms in the East, Dean. I don't think they keep regular hours."

"Public Relations." Dean snorted. "The idiot can't even give a straight come back. He couldn't talk his way out of a paper bag. How the hell is he supposed to clean up someone's image?"

Sam grinned despite the dark cloud that had been following them the whole three hour trip. "As Bobby likes to say Joshua is slicker than snot on a doorknob."

Dean shot his brother a doubtful look. "You use to outwit him when you were five."

"I think he's different when he's around us."

"He's different all right." Dean turned his gaze back to the shiny steel buildings in the distance. "But he won't weasel his way out of the line of fire if he doesn't come up with the words I want to hear."

"Just let me take the lead on this one."

"Why? Because you lawyer types and public relation guys have so much in common?"

"No, because I won't shoot first and ask questions later. Sometimes I think you forget he wears a ring."

"I forget about the ring?" Dean shot his brother an accusing glare. "You're kidding right?"

Sam took a deep breath, refusing to be baited. "I have my ring, Dean."

"Maybe it's about time you start wearing it."

"That's not for you to decide."

"Yeah, well, how I handle Sawyer isn't up for you to decide." He glanced at him once more. "Got it?"

"Whatever," Sam mumbled, watching the purple mountains in the distance. So much for a Merry Christmas.

They remained silent until Dean began whistling as they entered the plush fourteenth floor offices of the Craig Industrial Complex. "I have to give it to him; the man knows how to work his magic."

Sam rolled his eyes at the dig. "I really don't think Joshua got any of this by using…well, you know."

Dean stopped at the fork in the cranberry-carpeted hallway and searched for the right direction. Sam pointed to a set of double frosted-glass doors with McGill & Associates etched on them. "What? You don't think Harry Potter wouldn't wiggle his nose to get in on this type of action. We already covered the whole 'Josh is retarded' thing."

Sam sighed. "Harry Potter doesn't twitch his nose, Dean. Read a book for God's sake."

Dean ignored his brother as he pushed through the doors and strode up to the shiny black desk in the center of the office.

Andrew Harmon was just finishing with his impromptu manicure when he got his holiday miracle early. "Yes, my dear Virginia, there is a Santa Clause." He sent a quick thank you to the Lord above for giving him his job, before leaning forward to greet the new handsome patrons. "May I help you?"

Dean flashed his most winning smile at the dark-haired guy in the bright pink tie. "We're here to see Joshua Sawyer."

"And do you gentlemen have an appointment?"

Sam flashed his brother a look, before replying, "We're old friends of his."

"Meaning…no you don't have an appointment." Andrew tapped his perfect white teeth with a pen. "Are you boys trying to be naughty? Because Santa is watching and I've been known to give spankings for such behavior. "

Dean frowned and Sam bit his lip at the puzzled look on his brother's face. "Can you just ring up Josh and tell him Dean Winchester is here?"

"Dean Winchester." Andrew drew the syllables out with a Chesire cat grin. "I like that. Did Mister Sawyer dream that up?"

"No." Dean tapped his fingers impatiently on the black counter top. "My parents did."

"My bad." Andrew propped his chin on his elbow, his gaze lingering on Dean. "You aren't exactly the type that comes to call on Mr. Sawyer, but I was hoping his tastes might have improved."

"He have a lot of unsavory types drifting in?" Sam asked skeptically. They had been given the third degree in the lobby. If they hadn't flashed their fake badges then they wouldn't have made it in off the street.

Andrew snorted. "No. Worse. Women." The administrative assistant sighed. "He's quite popular with the female clientele."

"I'm sure," Dean asserted, pulling the leather bi-fold from his pocket. He flashed the badge. "Get lover boy out here, chief."

"Chief?" Andrew grinned playfully as he picked up the phone and punched a few numbers. "We're already to the pet name stage? What next, Officer? You going to handcuff me to the copier?"

"Dean." Sam grabbed his brother's wrist before the older man had a chance to open his mouth. "How about we wait right over there for Joshua?"

Dean plucked the phone out of Andrew's hand and replaced it in the cradle. "How about I just go on back and let him know I'm here, myself."

Andrew shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm off in five, anyway."

"Just point the way."

The eager assistant pointed a newly painted nail towards a far office in the corner. "He's in a meeting."

"The more the merrier," Dean growled, starting off with Sam falling behind after giving Andrew an apologetic shrug.

"I'm up for a strip search when you're done, detectives," Andrew called after them, watching appreciatively as they made their way away from his desk. "Merry Christmas to me."

"Dean, you should at least…"

Sam didn't even get the chance to tell his brother to knock before the oldest Winchester was barreling into the office like he was the chairman of whatever board was meeting.

Joshua looked up from the table as the Winchesters entered unannounced. Sam caught the complete look of surprise that crossed his well-chiseled features before he locked his typical game face back in place. "Sam. Dean. I wasn't expecting you two until later."

The other men gathered around shot appraising looks in the young hunters' direction. "Joshua, what is this?" A tall, distinguished man with silver hair, stood haughtily gesturing to the two newcomers. "Who are these people?"

Joshua smiled, standing also. "You two will have to excuse Mjister McGill for not recognizing you. Much to his Grandson's disbelief he doesn't keep up with the music scene."

"Excuse me?" McGill's frown grew and the other gentlemen started to study Dean and Sam with more interest.

"Don't feel bad, sir." Joshua waved off his boss's concern. "Not many people over sixteen have heard of Chevrolet Sucks, but I assure you these two guys are on the top of their game and the Alternative charts."

"And what has that got to do with us?"

"The Pillar account, remember?" Sawyer circled around the room, gesturing toward a door off to the side. "They wanted something very trendy and obscure for the background music."

"That's the first I've heard of it."

"Exactly." Joshua smiled again, opening the door, and smoothly gesturing Dean and Sam in. "Obscure. Mysterious. Jack will eat it up."

"Old bastard is a strange one." One of the other businessmen spoke up and that started a private conversation which allowed Sawyer to escape with a quiet click of the door.

"Chevrolet Sucks?" Dean asked as soon as the door was closed. He eyed the other man critically. He was wearing black slacks, a white button down shirt and some kind of black velvet sports coat, the older Winchester was sure cost as much as a small domestic car.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Joshua demanded, ignoring the other hunter's indignation, giving him the same once over he had received. "And couldn't you have at least dressed for the occasion ? Are you trying to ruin everything?"

"It's nice to see you to, Josh." Dean picked his way around the small office, that obviously belonged to Sawyer if the eclectic décor and smell of money was any indication.

"Dean, damn it." Joshua shoved his hands through his hair as he went to the small mini-bar in the corner and poured him a glass of brandy. "You know this isn't how it works."

"We tried your cell," Sam spoke up.

"Did you leave a message?"

"Hours ago," Dean told him, picking up a crystal sculpture and turning it over and over in his hands.

"And I would have called you back." Joshua grabbed the figurine and placed it carefully back on the meticulous desk. "In my own time."

"Is that how the whole back-up thing works with you and Reaves? Because that pretty much sounds like it would suck in an emergency."

Joshua took a long drink. "What?" He shook his head. "What about Reaves?"

"Where is he?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Sam stepped between the two, facing Joshua. "He said he was working on a job with you."

Sawyer rolled his eyes. "That cult thing?" He shook his head again. "Tell me he didn't screw it up, because Boone…"

"He doesn't screw up!" Dean snapped.

Joshua grinned, ruefully. "Forgive me if I'm not prone to that thing called blind faith, Deuce."

Sam moved quickly, expertly predicting his brother's move before it happened. "Dean." He pushed his brother away from Sawyer, holding a hand out against his chest. "He can't answer our questions if he's unconscious."

"Where. Is. Caleb?" Dean bit out, glaring at Sawyer from over his brother's shoulder.

Joshua sighed, as if he were growing bored of the conversation. "I'm not his keeper."

"Joshua," Sam kept his hand on his brother's chest but turned, pointing a finger at Sawyer, "we know he's working a job with you, so stop playing dumb."

"That's not an act, Sammy," Dean said, sidestepping his brother's barrier.

"We weren't working a job together." Joshua sighed again, favoring Dean with another dour look. "Do you realize how much trouble you could cause by coming here?"

"Do you realize I don't give a shit about your fucking job?" Dean took a step towards Joshua. "You're a part of The Brotherhood. That means _this_ job comes first."

"Really?" Joshua shook his head. "Because I don't know if you realize this but not all of us can eek out a living by running credit card scams and hustling pool. And even though most of us dream of that artful dodger kind of childhood, the 'real' cops would catch on pretty fast and that would not work out well for anyone."

"Look." Sam glared at Sawyer, the dig at his and Dean's childhood and insult to their father wearing his patience thin. "All we want to know is when you last talked to him and where he was?"

"I talked to him a few days ago," Joshua relented. " He was in Riverside, a little town about an hour south of here."

"And?"

"And he was following a lead." Joshua waved his hand in the air. "He didn't really elaborate. Prattled on about how he had won a couple of the members' trust and they had invited them to their own little Ruby Ridge complex."

"Great." Dean glanced at his brother. "I hate cults."

"I don't like them either, but Boone needed this one looked in to. Seems several young women have disappeared over the last few months. There was talk of some kind of demon worship and sacrifices."

The older Winchester frowned. "Let me guess. Boone called you for a favor and you handed off to Caleb." Boone might have officially retired from the ranks of The Brotherhood, but he still handed off assignments to other hunters. He was a middle-man of sorts. Dean had known his father to use him on occasion, although he hadn't seen the man face to face since he was about twelve.

Joshua topped off his drink, not bothering to play the well-mannered host. "It sounded like Caleb's thing. He knows a lot about the freaks, and he was interested in the particular demon."

"Meaning in PR speak that you dangled a carrot in front of him because you don't like to get your hands dirty."

"Dean," Sam warned.

"We've all been busy picking up the slack since Jim and…" Sawyer exhaled loudly, raking a hand through his hair. "I've had my share of jobs. It's been an adjustment for everyone."

Dean nodded, his jaw clenching. "Did you have a backup plan? A time for him to check in?"

"Tomorrow morning. If I didn't hear from him I was suppose to call _you_. Imagine that. You must be psychic, too."

The older Winchester started for the door. "Don't leave town, Josh."

"It's Christmas, Winchester. I have plans, and it's _Joshua._"

"Plan on being here until we call you, _Josh_."

Sam gave Sawyer an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. He's not exactly in the holiday spirit this year."

"I guess I shouldn't be expecting a Christmas card from him then."

"We'll be in touch." Sam hurried to catch up with his brother.

"I look forward to it." The older hunter stepped half-way through the office door. "And about that whole saving your life thing last year, Dean, don't mention it," Joshua called after them. "You're welcome," he added before stepping back into his office and slamming the door with a resounding thud.

"You know it's not all his fault," Sam said, once they were in their car and on the way to Riverside. "Caleb's almost as bad as Dad about the whole need to know stuff."

Dean didn't acknowledge his words. He merely continued to watch the darkened Interstate for the exit they would need.

Sam was undaunted. "And despite everything Caleb must trust him or he wouldn't work with him as much as he does."

Still, his reply was silence. However, his brother did clench his jaw and hiis hands seemed to tighten, white-knuckle like on the steering wheel. That of course could mean a lot of things. "This could all be for nothing. Caleb could be fine."

"Something's wrong."

The words weren't as harsh as he expected, and Sam angled his body so that he could study his brother's profile. "What makes you say that?"

Dean cut his gaze to him. "You mean besides your whole incident with the psychic hotline?"

"We don't know that was Caleb." The younger hunter shook his head. "Hell, we don't know what _that_ was."

Dean moved his eyes back to the road and the congested traffic surrounding them. "I had a dream…all right. Jim was in it, and he told me…" The older Winchester sighed. "He told me to save the Knight."

"Dean." Sam sighed. "Jim's dead."

"You don't think I know that, Einstein!" Dean snapped. He favored his brother with the patented Winchester glower. "But I've talked to him before."

The younger hunter raised a skeptical brow. "Since he died?"

Dean shot him another look and Sam held up his hands. "I'm just clarifying."

"Yes, Perry Mason. I talked to him at the pond, before I woke up at the hospital."

Sam nodded. "And what did you two talk about?"

"That's not important, Sam." Dean gave the younger hunter another withering look. "This dream was different. Jim was different. He was messed up."

Sam's voice lowered. "Messed up?"

Dean swallowed hard as the image of Jim Murphy's slashed throat paraded through his mind. "His throat was cut. He was upset. Jim told me not to let _it_ happen again."

The younger hunter frowned. "You think he meant that Caleb was going to be killed by the demon, too? Like him and Dad?"

"What else could it mean?"

"Dean, you've never had…"

"Visions?" his brother interrupted. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'm not trying to steal your psychic thunder. But for some reason, I have a connection to Jim. I can't explain it. Hell, I don't want to understand it…but Caleb's in trouble. That much I know for sure."

Sam sighed, rubbing at his head, where a echo of the previous 'episode' still lingered. "But if _the _demon was involved, wouldn't I have had a real vision?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know, but you heard Joshua. There's some kind of demon involved in this, whether it's that yellow-eyed bastard or not, we're going to finish it." _Before it kills someone else we care about. _

"Yeah." Sam glanced out the window. "Nothing's going to happen to Caleb."

Dean shot him a look. "Seeing as how I'm willing to bet Riverside doesn't have a Hilton, we'll need to find a phone book when we get there."

"A Hilton?" Sam raised a brow.

"Yeah. Reaves has a rewards card. He's likes to pretend he's a rock star when he's hunting. We've stayed at some fucking awesome places."

Sam shook his head. "And **we** stay at any rat-trap available."

Dean shrugged. "When you start pulling in six figures, Matlock, we can get a Hilton card, too."

"So, when he's forced to live as the commoners do, he follows the same rules as the rest of us."

"Yeah. He'll be in the first cheap-ass motel registered under Rick Deckard."

Sam frowned, trying to recall where he had heard the name before. "Deckard?"

Dean grinned. "The lead character in The Blade Runner. Remember?"

"How could I forget? You two made me watch that thing about a hundred times."

"Hey, he was a hunter, sort of. It was educational." Dean went back to watching the road. "Besides Caleb had a thing for the building."

"The building?"

"Yeah. The Bradbury Building in L.A. They filmed the movie there. He and I did a sweep with an EMF once, but nothing showed."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "You two are so weird."

"Seriously, Dude, it was designed by some architect after he had a conversation with his dead brother via a Quija board."

"Now it all makes sense." Sam rolled his eyes. "And here I thought the only things you two talked about besides hunting were the Sox, frisky women and weapons."

"Are you calling us shallow?"

Sam moved his eyes back to the slow-moving traffic, ignoring the disgruntled look his brother was giving him. "As a summer creek bed in Arizona."

"Shut up." Dean pointed to the atlas lying between them. "Check that exit again. I don't want to miss it."

As it turned out, Riverside was hard to miss.

The small town was lit up like Vegas. To say the town took Christmas to heart was an understatement. Every lamp post, every tree, and each and every house was decked with lights and tinsel, not to mention the yards full of blow-up inflatables and more traditional wood-cuts of Santa and his team. "You've got to be kidding me?" Dean complained as the turned into the Sleep 10 Motel and was greeted by a chorus of carolers in a tractor-pulled wagon. "What is this?"

"It's called Christmas, brother."

The older Winchester glared at Sam as he parked far away from the singing troupe and killed the car. "Damien will haunt us forever if he's taken out by the Grinch in this warped Whoville."

Sam climbed out of the car and followed his brother through the candy cane lane that led to the manager's office. "Dean, Caleb's going to be fine. He can take care of himself. And the Grinch lived on Mount Crumpit."

The older hunter ignored his brother's role reversal attempt and waved away the false reassurances. He opened the bell-laden door with a huff, feeling a sudden affinity to the green, cave-dwelling Christmas-hater from Suess' story.

"Merry Christmas!" An older man with a bad comb over and beady eyes greeted them with a forced exuberance from his perch in front of a small, portable television. "Welcome to Motel 10," he said in his scripted tone.

Dean didn't waste any time, pulling his badge and stepping to the counter. "I'm Detective Hutchinson with the Louisville, P.D."

The manager stood quickly, setting the bowl of popcorn he was eating from on the counter. "Uhhh..." he stammered. "We don't usually get the big city boys down here. How can I help you, Officer?"

"I'm looking for a man who might have checked in here a few days ago. A man named Deckard."

The clerk rubbed a hand over his face. "Tall felllow? Dark hair, movie-star looking type?"

Sam covered his laugh with a cough. "So he's staying here?"

"Yeah." Bad comb-over punched a few keys on the computer. "Checked in three days ago. Paid for a full week. He's in room 184, around back, on the corner."

"Key?" Dean held his hand out expectantly, and the manager quickly scanned a plastic card and handed it to him.

"He's not dangerous, is he?"

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and the manager seemed to draw his own conclusions from their furtive glances. He started shaking his head. "I don't want any trouble here. I run a clean establishment."

"And we'll do our best to keep it that way," Sam told him, sincerely.

"Should I come with you?"

"No," Dean replied quickly and the man looked extremely relieved. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

After once again by-passing the carolers, they easily found the room in the small one-story motel. Caleb's door was on the corner and in the back, the location that John Winchester had preferred. Dean checked the area, gratefully finding the back parking lot vacant of any well-wishers or tenants. He pulled his weapon and nodded for Sam to unlock the door.

The younger hunter slid the key in the lock, putting his shoulder into it when it didn't open quick enough.

There was only a faint stream of light, seeping in from the half-open bathroom door in the far corner, but it bathed the dingy room in a sickly yellow glow.

Both brothers stepped into the small space, scanning the area, weapons held at the ready. "Caleb?" Dean's voice echoed loudly to Sam, who's senses seemed to be on overdrive and he flinched.

"Shit!" The oldest Winchester cursed, his gaze quickly landing on the inert form of the hunter in question. Dean slid his gun into the back of his jeans and moved towards the bed furthest from the door. "Caleb!"

"Dean?" Sam stood stock still, unable to get his feet to carry him across the wine-colored carpet. He hadn't seen the other psychic move, and there was only one explanation for the older hunter not being alerted to their entrance.

"Get the light, Sammy." Dean waited for his brother to comply before reaching a hand out to rest against Caleb's neck.

"Is he…"

"He's alive." Dean exhaled, loudly, sparing his brother a quick look before he focused on their friend once more. "Caleb? Come on, man."

Sam made his way to Dean's side, his gaze traveling over the psychic's body. Caleb was laying on his side, his upper body and face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was pale and his breathing was quick and shallow. "Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam!" His brother snapped, gently rolling the psychic over so that he was on his back. "Damn. He's burning up."

Sam rested his hand against Caleb's forehead and much to his surprise the older man's eyes fluttered and opened. The amber-like gaze was unfocused and glassy, but it seemed to zero in on Sam's face. "Damn, is it you?" Caleb rasped.

"Caleb?" Sam leaned closer, placing his other hand on the older man's shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

Caleb blinked again. "John," he muttered and his eyes slid shut once more.

The younger Winchester turned towards his brother, trying to open his mouth to say something. But a sudden force like being sucked into a wind tunnel stole the breath from his lungs and he felt himself falling away. As if from a great distance he heard his brother say his name , and then he was in another place, being serenaded by a very differnt voice.

At first he thought he was once more out in front of the motel listening to the carolers, but then he recognized the crooning of Elvis and realized he was in a crowded restaurant, the juke box booming out White Christmas. It was a vision.

" _I was surprised when you agreed to have lunch with me." Caleb Reaves was sitting in a booth close to the door with a pretty blond. "I thought Solomon frowned on things like this." _

"_I told him we were coming in for supplies." _

_Reaves looked surprised and pleased. "You lied?" _

"_Solomon thinks the Lord and the land provide us with all the nourishment our body needs." The woman shot Reaves a smile. "Yet, my body still seems to crave a good cheeseburger and fries every now and then." _

" _A woman after my own heart." Reaves laughed. "But here I thought you were in the running for sainthood, Sister Ann." _

_The girl's face seemed to change. "I'm not as innocent as some people think." _

"_Now that's the first good news I've heard since joining your little club." _

"_You're not a member, yet, Brother Thomas."_

"_Order up!" The cook behind the counter banged a meaty hand down on his bell, and Caleb glanced up. _

"_That's us. I'll get it." He winked at Ann. "Don't go anywhere." _

"_I won't," Ann answered, sweetly, watching the hunter as he moved to get their lunch. _

_Sam witnessed the change in the girl as Caleb walked away. She moved like a cat once the hunter was out of sight. Ann slipped a hand into the pocket of her coat, coming out with a bundle of cloth which she quickly unwound. From Sam's point of view the contents within looked like loose tea, and he watched helplessly as the girl dumped them into Caleb's drink, using her finger to swirl the dark coffee around. _

_The hunter would be none the wiser, and Sam was helpless to warn him as Reaves returned with two plates in hand. He set one in front of the girl, and took the other for himself. "Extra cheese and heavy on the salt and grease." _

"_Thanks," Ann told him, picking up a fry. "I knew I liked you for some reason."_

_Caleb reclaimed his seat and grinned. "Oh sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet." _

_Sam watched helplessly as Caleb picked up the coffee cup and nearly downed it all in one swallow. "I'll have you completely won over by dessert." _

"_We'll have to see about that." Ann smirked, picking up the cheeseburger and taking a demure bite. _

"_Have faith, Sister Ann." Caleb winked. "Have faith." _

"No!" Sam gasped and opened his eyes. He blinked and a water-stained ceiling came into focus.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean's face suddenly consumed his field of vision, replacing the tiles, looking as worried and frustrated as he could recall. "I don't need this shit, man. Are you okay?"

Sam blinked again, attempting to weakly push himself to a sitting position. "Dean? What…"

"You fainted again, Francis!" Dean snapped, helping him up.

"It was a vision." Sam used the side of Caleb's bed and his brother's arm to leverage himself out of the floor. He looked at Reaves. "Or maybe not."

"Excuse me." Dean guided him to the other bed. "What the hell does that mean? In case you haven't noticed we don't have time for twenty questions."

Sam frowned, rubbing at his forehead. "I think I was seeing something in the past…something that happened to Caleb."

Dean looked towards their friend and then back to his brother. "Like that whole link think that Caleb and Mac can do?"

The younger hunter looked up at his hovering brother and nodded. "Maybe."

"What did you see?"

"A girl…she put something in Caleb's drink."

"Like a micky?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Some kind of poison, I think."

"Damn it." Dean moved back to Caleb's side, resting a hand on the older hunter's head. "That would explain this." He removed his touch and sighed. "I told you a woman was going to be the death of you, Damien."

Caleb moved restlessly, his eyes briefly opening again. "Caleb?" Dean rested his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Are you with us?"

The psychic tossed his head again, moaning in pain. "Hey, man. It's Dean."

Caleb looked up, shook his head slightly. "No… Ace. You're Deuce to me."

Dean sat down on the bed as his legs betrayed him. It was the last thing he'd said to Caleb, a cruel little jab that drove home how pissed he was at the man. "Right. It's Deuce."

"No M&M's," Reaves muttered, and he was out again.

Dean looked at his brother. "Would you recognize the girl?"

Sam swallowed thickly, licked his dry lips. "Yeah."

"Good." Dean moved his hand back to Caleb's shoulder, hoping to let the other hunter know he wasn't alone. "Call Joshua and tell him to get his ass over here, A.S.A.P."

"Dean…"

Dean didn't give his brother time to finish his thoughts. "Do it, Sammy. And if he gives you any bullshit tell him the Knight is dying and unless he wants to be kicked out of The Brotherhood on his public relations ass he better punch the time clock and take a fucking short cut."

_**SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN**_

_**a/n: Thanks to Tidia for beta reading the majority of this, but that disclaimer from last time goes. I had to finish up the end on my own, so she can't be held responsible. I'm completely untrainable. Thanks for reading everyone. Any comments are greatly appreciated. I would also like to apologize for posting the wrong addy to the webpage last time. It is now linked to my profile here at fanficnet. I forget the 'The'. So,it is www(dot)thehunterstomb(dot)com. Oh, this computer stuff. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**"WHEN Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,  
We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,  
And etched on vacant places  
Are half forgotten faces  
Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know --  
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow."**_

_**-Ella Wheeler Wilcox **_

"I called Joshua." Sam watched as his brother set down the cold water he'd retrieved from the bathroom.

"And?" Dean asked tersely, as he dipped two wash cloths in the improvised bowl. Who would have thought their old camping gear would come in handy in December.

"He'll be here within the hour." Sam reflexively clenched his fingers around the phone. "Dean, maybe I should call Mac again. I think he might have picked up on something when I asked him if he'd talked to Caleb and…"

"No." Dean shook his head, wringing out one of the cloths and placing it on the psychic's forehead. "Caleb wouldn't want that, and besides there's nothing he can do from New York."

The younger Winchester shook his head. "But, he needs a doctor, Dean."

"That's why I told you to ask Joshua about finding us some local help."

"He said why didn't we get creative and try the ER."

"Did you tell him…"

"Yes," Sam interrupted, "I told him to go fuck himself and that if he didn't come through you'd kick his ass."

"You reading me without permission?"

The younger hunter's mouth twitched slightly at his brother's look of irritation. "Hey, I don't have to be psychic to channel you, man. I know you better than anybody. But he could have a point. Maybe we should take him to the hospital."

Dean frowned at his brother. "Take him to the hospital where we have no control? If he's put in ICU, Sam, we wouldn't even be allowed in to see him, let alone do anything with his treatment if it's some kind of poison, or worse, a spell."

The younger Winchester raked a hand through his tousled hair. "Then what do we do?"

"We wait for Sawyer. Did he say he'd find someone?"

"He said he had a few contacts."

"That's a start." Dean glanced at Caleb as the older hunter began to move restlessly on the bed. "Caleb?"

The psychic's dark lashes fluttered against his flushed cheeks for a moment and then he was staring up at Dean. "I…need help."

The lighter haired hunter felt his gut twist at the exposed pain reflected in the glassy gaze. "Please."

"It's okay," Sam said, shooting his older brother a worried glance when Dean didn't say anything. "We're going to help you, Caleb." The younger Winchester laid his hand on the other hunter's hair. "Just take it easy."

Dean swallowed thickly as Caleb's eyes closed again. "We need to get his fever down."

"Dean…" Sam tried, but his brother was up, pacing across the floor.

"If this is a poison a damn doctor ain't going to do us much good. We don't even know how long he's been like this…Shit, it could have been days."

"Dean," Sam said again, watching as his brother built up steam.

"Fucking Joshua and his fucked up tag team voice mail."

The younger Winchester moved to his brother's vacated spot by the water bowl, picking up the other cloth and running it over Caleb's sweat-drenched face and neck. Ranting was Dean's way of dealing.

"He wouldn't have known anything until the news story broke. I can see it now. President and CEO of Tri Corp found murdered in a freaky-ass motel room." Dean gestured to the walls that were covered with newspaper clippings and notes on the missing girls and the cult. "The press would have a field day."

"Dean, he's not dead." Sam lowered his voice, hoping to get his brother's attention. "He's not going to die."

"You got an antidote up your sleeve, Sammy?" Dean stopped his pacing long enough to glare at his brother. "Because if you're holding out on me…"

"We'll go find the girl when Joshua gets here. She'll tell us what she used and we'll fix it. We've faced things like this before."

Dean's mind recalled a time when Sam was in a similar position as Caleb. A witch had poisoned his brother to blackmail their father into helping her sick-o boyfriend. "Yeah, but Dad was there."

Sam sighed, went back to bathing the psychic in the cool water. "If I remember right, it was you and Caleb who stopped Duran."

Dean moved back to the bed, taking a seat on the other side next to the unconscious hunter. He dropped his head into his hands, sighing heavily. "Yeah, but Caleb's not going to be much help."

Sometimes it amazed Sam when his brother didn't see how important he was in the grand scheme of things. "But you're here. That's what matters."

Dean looked up at him, feeling as lost as he could remember. "I don't know what to do." The older hunter's voice broke slightly. "I don't know how to fix this."

Sam dipped the cloth in the liquid again, squeezing the excess from it before handing it to his brother. "You'll do what you can. That's all he'd expect."

The older Winchester took the cloth with a nod. "He'd kick our asses for giving him a sponge bath is what he'd do."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe Joshua's contact will be a hot nurse?"

"Do you know _Josh_?" Dean ran the cloth over Caleb's chest. "Nurse Ratchet is more likely."

The younger hunter grinned, and jutted his chin towards the right side of the psychic's chest. "Did you notice that?"

Dean eyed the intricate tattoo. "I bet that cost him a fortune." The work was immaculate and obviously done with painstaking accuracy. The red dragon covered the upper portion of Caleb's chest, it's outstretched wings reaching up to his shoulder. In its claws the mythical animal held two things-a black-hilted sword and a golden cross.

"I bet he did it himself," Sam observed. "It looks like the ones he use to draw for me when I was a kid."

Dean raised a disbelieving brow. "Caleb used to draw you dragons?"

Sam shrugged, the faint memory tickling at the back of his mind. "When nobody else was around."

The older Winchester snorted. "So much for being a hardass."

"Yeah, reminds me of somebody else I know."

Dean glanced up again. "I know you're not talking about me, because you won't see me packing a box of Crayolas on the sly."

Sam smiled, not bothering to mention Lucas and how his brother had interacted with the traumatized child. "I just meant that you both have a lot of layers."

The older hunter rolled his eyes. "With me, what you see is what you get."

"And what do you see when you look at Caleb?" Sam asked quietly, watching his brother's eyes go from the dragon tattoo to the sliver chain and ring around the psychic's neck. They both knew it was their dad's ring.

Dean sighed. "The sword has Semper Fi written on it." Sam was right. They weren't the only ones who missed John Winchester.

The younger hunter frowned, letting his own gaze go back to the Knight's sword held tightly in one talon. Sure enough, the Marine creed was etched across the blade.

Dean cleared his throat, bringing Sam's eyes back to him. "Remember when he used to torture Mac about joining the Marines. Dad use to get in on it, too, with all that talk about having an old buddy that was a recruiter."

Sam nodded. "I don't know who was more worried, Mac or you."

Dean flinched, his posture screaming indignation. "Like I cared what the idiot did."

"Just like you didn't care when he sold Tri Corp, or gave me the journal?"

"What does one have to do with the other?"

"You were worried about him and it pissed you off." Dean internalized any emotions he didn't want to deal with, and it usually came out in one of two ways- inappropriate humor or scary rage.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Sam shook his head. His brother had a whole hell of a lot room to call Caleb an idiot. "I do know because I've spent a lot of time being pissed at you."

"It's not the same." Dean didn't want it to be the same. "You just don't understand…"

"Then explain it to me." Sam was so tired of being shut out- of all the macho loner crap. "Talk to me."

Dean wiped the wet cloth over Caleb's face again, not meeting his brother's penetrating gaze. For a long moment only the psychic's labored breathing dared to breach the heavy silence between them. "You know he watched his mom die."

The statement caught Sam off guard and he hesitated for a moment before putting the cloth he had rewet back on Caleb's forehead. He glanced up for a moment, barely making eye-contact with Dean before going back to the job at hand.

The other hunter continued on in a monotone, matter of fact way. "His dad stabbed her to death with a letter opener. Then he shot himself . Caleb was hiding in the closet. He saw everything."

"Yeah." Sam swallowed hard. "Mac wrote about it in the journal."

The older Winchester stopped what he was doing, surprise and something else written in his eyes. For some reason Sam felt slightly guilty under his brother's intense scrutiny, even though Caleb had given him the journal, trusted him with what was inside.

"Mackland was always meticulous."

"He was trying to help."

"Nothing helps that kind of pain, Sam."

"I know." He could say that now. Jessica's death gave him a taste, but after losing John, he was certain he had never truly understood loss until the moment his father was killed. There was something about a parent dying…it took a part of you, dashed a part of your history…gone forever. He was no longer someone's little boy, someone's son. That was forever lost to him. He was a twenty-three-year-old orphan, and it was scary as hell. He felt unbalanced, lost, and it was impossible to imagine that happening when he was six.

"He understood about Mom and he didn't try to explain things to me or make it all better." Dean exhaled, wearily. "He let me be a kid."

Sam had never thought about it, but Caleb was the only 'kid' his brother recognized as safe. With everyone else, whether it be school mates or neighbors from whatever slummy apartments they were living in, Dean had to be on guard. He was in charge of protecting their secret, guarding his little brother. Other children didn't understand the role of good soldier, being a surrogate parent, or the responsibility and weight of knowing about the things in the dark. But Caleb Reaves did and as a bonus he was a child too. He might have been eight years older than Dean, but he was the closest thing his brother would get. "He's going to be okay, Dean."

Dean didn't say anything because Caleb chose that moment to react to their treatment.

The psychic curled into himself crying out as he battled some invisible assailant. Muscles knotted and rippled across his abdomen as convulsions wracked his body either from the toxin or the high fever. "No…" he muttered tossing his head from side to side. "Duran…"

"Shit," Dean raked a hand over his face, afraid to imagine what ghosts his friend was encountering.

"Caleb!" Sam moved his hands towards the older hunter trying to offer some sort of comfort, any solace that would make the suffering stop.

"Don't even think about," Dean ordered, pointing a finger at him as if he could read his brother's mind. "That won't help and you know it."

"What?" Sam feigned innocence. Maybe he could mentally block what was attacking Reaves. They wouldn't know if he didn't try.

The older hunter glared at him. "Don't forget I know you, too."

"But…"

"No!" Dean snapped, keeping his brother from making physical contact with the other psychic. His eyes moved from Sam's stubborn gaze to Caleb's tortured form as Reaves cried out again. "I can't take care of both of you."

"Then do something," Sam choked, unable to watch and do nothing. He could see the same helplessness he felt openly displayed in his brother's green eyes.

Dean's gaze searched the motel room. Caleb was as much of a neat freak as John Winchester. "Find his first aid kit. He would have brought it in with him when he checked in." They still hadn't spotted their father's truck that the psychic now drove but Dean knew the other man almost as well as he knew Sam. Most of his weapons and anything valuable would be in the room.

He watched his brother move around the cramped space even searching Caleb's duffel before moving on to the bathroom. The psychic called out for Mac and Dean ran his hand over his hair. "Take it easy, Damien. It's okay."

Caleb looked at him, but Dean didn't think he was awake. He had enough experience with Sam's nightmares to recognize the look of someone still trapped inside one. "Jim…I'm scared."

The words cut deeply as a memory of saying almost the same thing to his father a few months before sprung to his mind. Dean suddenly felt all of ten again, terrified and helpless. He swallowed the urge to be sick and continued trying to calm the other hunter. "Don't be afraid, Caleb. Knights are brave, man. You gotta' be brave."

The psychic lifted his hand and Dean grasped it, holding on to it as if he could anchor the other hunter, provide him with the strength to keep fighting. "Deuce…"

Dean's heart faltered at the annoying nickname and his friend's sudden clarity, and his grip tightened on Caleb's hand. "I'm here."

Caleb's gaze seemed to focus then, his gold-colored eyes gaining some cognizance. "The demon's…here…we need the Guardian…"

That was all he managed before another wave of agony pulled him under, tearing him from the younger hunter's hold. He called out for his father again and Dean cursed his helplessness.

"I found it." Sam rushed back into the room, carrying the familiar black doctor's bag. It had belonged to Mac in medical school, and Caleb kept it stocked like a physician.

Dean moved quickly, taking it from his brother and rifling through the contents. Finding what he was looking for, he dropped the kit onto the floor and moved back to Caleb's side.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, watching as his brother knelt over the dark haired hunter.

"Help me hold him down, but don't think about using your freaky mind powers."

"Dean?" The younger Winchester did as his brother said, grasping Caleb's shoulders, pinning him to the bed. It wasn't easy, even in his weakened state the other psychic was strong and he fought like trapped animal. Sam recognized the determined look on his brother's face. "Dean, you don't know what we're dealing with," he warned. "You don't know what that will do."

Dean blinked, causing his brother's worried features to blur. "Yes I do." Sam frowned and Dean grabbed hold of Caleb's arm. Mackland had taught Dean the proper procedure to give injections the same day he'd taught him how to do sutures. The ten-year-old had surprised the surgeon by taking to it with the same natural grace he had on a ball field.

He uncapped the syringe with his teeth and hesitated only briefly before plunging the needle into the psychic's arm, depressing the plunger with a quick, silent prayer. "It'll make the pain stop." At the moment that's all that mattered to Dean- taking the pain away.

Caleb only struggled for a moment more; his body twitched a few times before stilling completely. Sam kept his hand on the psychic's shoulders, even after the older hunter stopped moving. His dark gaze went to Dean, who was silently staring at Caleb, his bottom lip held pensively between his teeth.

"Dean?" Sam watched as his brother tossed the used needle away, sank down on the bed beside Reaves. He didn't miss the way Dean's hand trembled as he placed his fingers against the psychic's throat, or the way he nearly sagged in relief when he obviously found what he was hoping for.

"He's still breathing."

"What the fuck, Dean?" Sam slid one hand through his hair. "You didn't even know how much you were giving him?"

"Yes I did." Dean kept his hand on the psychic's chest, making sure it was still rising and falling the way it should be. "He keeps them loaded with the right amount. Pays to have a doctor in the family."

Sam sat down on the other side of the bed, wondering at the absurdity of it all. "Our lives are so fucked up, Dude."

"You're telling me."

"It won't fix things."

"I know that." Dean gave his brother a sharp look. "But it's the best I could do for now."

"We need to figure out what the hell happened to him," Sam said, finally removing his touch from Caleb.

"Seems to react a lot like that stuff that Duran's witch gave you."

"Yeah." Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling the building of what promised to be a spectacular headache if given the chance. He'd thought about that, too. Apparently he and his brother were on the same wavelength, as usual. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

Dean's reply was interrupted by a knock on the door. He stood pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. He nodded for his brother to get it as he placed himself in between the potential threat and their defenseless partner. "Delivery." The voice was muffled by the door, but it was recognizable. The older Winchester placed the safety back on his weapon and returned it to his jeans.

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the door to let Joshua in. The man wasn't joking about the delivery, his arms cradling several white bags decorated with Japanese symbols.

"You stopped for food?" Dean asked, incredulously.

Sawyer shrugged. "A man's got to eat, albeit he won't eat well in this town. What decent Japanese restaurant doesn't have Sushi?" Joshua sighed, dramatically. "Don't worry though. I brought enough to share, Deuce."

"It's Dean," the younger hunter growled, reconsidering putting his gun away.

Joshua dumped the bags on the table as an older, balding man in a velour jogging suit followed him in. "Why don't I get a nickname? It's not fair, you know."

Dean's lip curled. "Oh you have a nickname, Dude." He nodded to the stranger. "It's just not polite to repeat it in front of company."

"Speaking of manners." Joshua ignored the implications and gestured to his friend. "This is Doctor Rodney Combs, formerly of the prestigious Aluminous Cosmetics Group."

"Formerly?" Sam inquired, giving the pudgy man a critical once over.

The greasy doctor smiled. "I was fired."

"He **retired**," Joshua quickly corrected, giving the man a disapproving look. "Rodney decided to go into private family practice to spend more time with his own darling wife and lovely offspring."

Rodney snorted. "That's his way of saying I fucked up the breast job of a very rich woman and got kicked out on my old, sagging ass. Now I have way too much time to listen to my nag of a bride prattle on about her lack of access to Botox and I won't even go in to the demon spawn that sprung forth from my loins"

"You're making my job very difficult by continuing to tell that distasteful rumor, Rodney."

The doctor rolled his eyes and waved off Joshua's reprimand. "My wife is paying you a lot of my money to fix her little fairytale life. You might as well have to work hard for it, Slick."

Dean gave the man another look. Maybe he wasn't as bad as the poor taste in clothes and bad-smelling aftershave that smelled a whole hell of a lot like Vodka alluded to. But was he a decent doctor? "You know what you're doing, right?"

"I went to medical school, Kid. How picky can you get when you want a back alley house call in the middle of the goddamn night on the day before Christmas Eve? Most of my decent colleagues are on their way to Maui."

"He's got a point, Dean." Sam saw the argument building in his brother's eyes. "Just let him examine Caleb."

"Speaking of demon spawn…" Joshua started, but quickly shut his mouth when Dean gave him a withering look. He held up the box of friend rice he was eating from in surrender, and moved to Caleb's bedside. "Damn. He looks bad," he mumbled around a mouthful of shrimp.

"Thank you for that diagnosis," Dean snapped, shoving him out of the way as he took his place by the psychic's side. "Now let the guy with the MD after his name have a look."

Rodney took a seat on the bed, opening his bag that looked more ancient than Mac's retired one. He pulled out a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff. "How long has he been like this?"

Sam watched the doctor move his practiced hands over Caleb's body. "We aren't sure. We found him a few hours ago."

"Is he on anything?" The physician lifted each of the psychic's eyelids, using a pen light to check for pupil reaction. He glanced to Dean. "Is he a junkie?"

"Hell no!" Dean snapped, his fist clenching at his sides as the doctor ignored him and checked each of Caleb's arms for signs of track marks.

"Meth? Cocaine?"

"Fuck you, man," Dean growled."We don't need this shit."

"The pain got out of hand, we were afraid of what damage it was causing," Sam interrupted before his brother tossed the tactless physician out of the motel room on his sagging white ass. "We gave him an injection of morphine."

Rodney raised a brow. "If you've got access to the good stuff, then why the hell do you need me?"

"This is the best you could find, Josh?" Dean pointed an accusing finger at Sawyer. "Because you do realize it's your neck on the line, too. Right?"

"Rodney," Joshua moved away from the older Winchester, "the line of work that my colleagues and I perform on the side is very dangerous. As I explained to you, and we have to be prepared for any circumstance."

"Yeah, the whole secret spy business."

Sam looked at his brother and mouthed the word _spy. _Dean shook his head. "Yeah, Josh is a regular double-o-zero."

Sawyer sighed. "Could you just help our associate, please?"

Rodney went back to work. "I can tell you one thing. He's not been like this very long."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked.

"Because if he had, he'd be dead," the physician replied. "His pulse is racing like it's been thundering around the horse tracks of Kentucky, and with this fever…"

"What?" Dean asked, swallowing thickly.

"You'll be lucky he doesn't fry his brain."

"That's okay: we've got damage control covered. His father's a famous neurosurgeon," Josh replied, continuing to eat his dinner.

Rodney tossed his own disgusted look in Sawyer's direction. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that because your buddy here is dying."

That caused Joshua to falter and he shot a quick look in Dean's direction. "I thought you were exaggerating."

Dean ignored him. "What can you do?"

"I can check him in a hospital." Rodney held up the thermometer he had just removed from Caleb's ear. He gave a low whistle. "Almost a hundred and four. That's impressive." He gave Dean another hard look. "He's not been out of the country has he? This better not be some kind of contagious shit."

"We think he was poisoned," Sam spoke up, "but we don't know what was used."

Rodney took out a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. He punctured the rubber top with the tip of the needle and withdrew a few cc's of the medicine. "I might be able to help with that, but I'm not sure how much good it will do," he added as he took out another syringe and an empty test tube.

He started for Caleb's arm with the filled needle but Dean clamped a vice-like grip around his wrist, when he noticed the slight tremble in the old man's hands. He was the one probably tripping on self-prescribed meds. "What the hell are you giving him?"

"Something for the fever. Morphine doesn't exactly help with that."

Dean didn't let him go, just continued to look from his blood-shot eyes to Caleb's pale face. "I'm trying to help, Son," Rodney said with the first hint of compassion. "As long as your buddy doesn't need anything lifted or tucked, he's safe with these old hands."

"I wouldn't have brought a quack, Dean." Joshua set down his dinner, his appetite suddenly abandoning him. "I wouldn't risk the Knight."

Dean swallowed again at The Brotherhood speak, and he removed his hand from the doctor's wrist. He wasn't all together sure what the whole idea of Caleb succeeding his father in the Knight's position meant, but he knew it was important to anyone who wore a ring, maybe to hunters who didn't follow their code. John had kept them in the dark about so much. The only thing he knew for certain was that Sam had been right, as usual. Caleb was like a brother to him, and not just because they were bound to the same cause. He looked at the doctor again. "Make sure you don't botch this, Doc, because your widow will be enjoying your pension with the hot, Latin pool boy she's likely to be screwing."

The doctor looked taken aback at first, but then he shook his head grinning ruefully. "Son, you haven't seen my wife."

Sam physically winced when the doctor forced the syringe into Caleb's arm, and he felt the blood rush to his head. He fucking hated needles and doctors weren't high up on his list these days either. It was all too sickeningly familiar after their father's death. "Sit down, Sammy."

Dean's voice penetrated the painful memory and Sam did as he was told, taking a seat on the opposite bed. He was unable to look away as the physician used another syringe to draw two tubes of Caleb's blood. "How soon will you be able to tell us what it is?"

Rodney didn't look at him. "Not soon enough, I'm afraid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean demanded, watching Caleb as he shrank away from the doctor's touch as the man began to prod and poke on his abdomen.

"It means that if I were you I'd use all my secret spy contacts to track down an antidote before James Bond here croaks."

"You've got a real bedside manner on you there, Bones."

"I didn't choose cosmetic surgery just for all the free frills, Kid. It sure the hell ain't like Nip & Tuck."

The psychic jerked in his sleep and Dean rested a hand on his head. "Take it easy."

"It's not a good sign that he can still register pain with the amount of happy juice you gave him."

"Can you give him anything else?"

"It probably wouldn't be the smartest idea," he sighed, running his fingers through what little bit of hair he had left. "I'll leave some with you though, in case it gets rough again." He glanced up at Dean. "If it get's real bad you can…" He let the words hang in the air, but Dean easily picked up on his insinuation.

"Screw you, Doctor Kevorkian. He's pulling through this."

"Perhaps you should take your leave now, Rodney," Joshua said, helping the doctor quickly gather his things. "We don't want Phyllis calling the authorities with a report of your kidnapping like last time."

The doctor nodded, and stood, taking the vials of blood with him. "I'll get these to the lab in Louisville." He glanced at Dean. "I'll tell them to put a rush on it."

"Thanks," Sam replied when his brother didn't. "We appreciate your help."

"No problem." Rodney gestured to Joshua. "Slick has helped me out of a few scrapes and out of court more times than I can count. I owed him one."

"Phyllis owes me, too," Joshua added as he escorted the doctor to the door. "After that last little scandal at Club Med, I'll be needing payment before we issue a statement to the press."

"Yeah. Yeah." Rodney waved him off. "Bloodsuckers, the lot of you."

Joshua closed the door behind him, watching as Dean lifted Caleb up and slipped a T-shirt on him before pulling the blankets over the psychic's shivering form. "So, what now Dynamic Duo?"

Dean stood and crossed the room. "Now you and Sam use what ever information you have about that cult to find the girl who did this."

"What girl?"

"The girl I saw in my vision."

Sawyer shoved his hands through this thick, blond hair. "Of course. We're just all one freaky family now, aren't we?"

"You have a better idea, Genius?"

"No," Joshua shook his head. He jutted his chin towards Caleb's prone form. "Save the Knight, Save the Brotherhood," he said in a theatrical tone.

When neither brother reacted to his clever reference he sighed in exasperation. "You two really do live in a black hole, don't you?"

"Just take Sam and go."

"Yes, sir." Josh mocked a salute, not daring to say what came to his mind. Dean sounded just like his father in that moment.

"And Sawyer," Dean reached out and caught his arm, waiting for the older hunter to meet his gaze. "If Caleb doesn't pull through this, then I wouldn't worry about those holiday plans you were going on and on about. You won't be making them."

Joshua swallowed thickly, not sure if the words were an empty threat or a certain promise of doom. "Just so long as you realize I'm usually only good for one miracle a year."

Dean smirked at the little reminder that Sawyer had been a part in saving his life by getting Sam in touch with the Reverend Roy LeGrange. "And if my little brother comes back with so much as **one **hair out of place, so help me God, Sawyer…"

"You'll kick my ass." Joshua pulled free, wiping at his fancy jacket as if Dean had soiled it with his touch. "I know. I've heard it all before." He waved a hand towards the younger Winchester. "I'll take care of little Sammy."

"It's Sam," the younger hunter snapped, grabbing his coat and sharing a quick look with his brother. "And I can take care of myself."

"I really should be allowed a nickname, you know," Joshua grumbled as he grabbed his keys from the table. "It's only fair."

_SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS_

_a/n: I want to thank Tidia for the beta work on this one. I went crazy with commas. She's so patient. Also, a big thank you to those who have reviewed, even though alerts are down and I haven't had a chance to read them. I at least hope they are positive and you're enjoying this. And last but not least thanks to Will, who has once again renovated the new website thehunterstomb. If you haven't checked out the new look, you definitely should. Chapter three will be up soon, and for a twist, I believe it will precede Tidia's chapter three of Charge Their Doings due to events taking place in the stories.-Ridley _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone. Hope the length makes up for it. Thanks to Tidia for the excellent beta job. And as always a huge thank you to those who take the time to review. I hope you know what it means to an author, especially this one. Also, you might want to refresh your memory by reading Chapter 3 of Tidia's Charge Their Doings just so you get everything. bg.

****

**_"Christmas…is not an eternal event at all, but a piece of one's HOME that one carries in one's heart." _**

_**-Freya Stark**_

"So, what's it going to be, Winchester?" Joshua lowered the hi-tech night-vision binoculars he had coincidentally stashed in his trunk and looked at his partner. "I have some ATF armbands, too." He bobbed his eyebrows. "We could play good agent, bad agent."

The younger hunter lowered his borrowed super spy gear. "Do you remember Waco? Ruby Ridge ring a bell?"

"It was merely a suggestion." Sawyer shrugged. "I'm not use to these black bag jobs."

Sam sighed, with a shake of his head. "Yet, you keep your car stocked with all these gadgets?"

"They're tools of the trade, my young friend. Besides I like Ebay."

The younger hunter snorted, remembering Joshua's penchant for off the wall tricks of the trade. "As long as they work better than that black dog locator?"

"It was the prototype for a satellite navigational system, I'll have you know. It should have worked."

"Well, I'll stick to the tried and true." Sam reached into the trunk of Joshua's Mercedes and pulled out his duffel. "I spotted a part of the fence-line that has good cover and no muscle guarding it."

"And you're sure the lovely blond we saw wondering the compound is the Black Widow?"

Sam shot the older hunter a look. "Black Widow?"

Joshua grinned. "Code word. I thought it appropriate. After all, Caleb probably slept with her, or at least thought about it. They eat their conquests you know…the spiders that is."

The younger hunter took what he needed from his pack, sliding his gun in the back of his jeans and stuffing the rest in the smaller bag at his feet. "I'm sure it's her. We'll get in, grab her and go."

"And if we encounter any guards?"

"Then we deal with them." Sam handed him a tazer. "Quietly."

Joshua took the crude instrument and frowned. "Couldn't you just use the thingy?" He gestured to his own head. "You know…subliminal mind control?"

Winchester's brow creased in confusion. "Do you mean the Jedi mind trick?"

"Yes." Joshua snapped his fingers. "That's the one."

"No." Sam grabbed his things and started for the tree line that surrounded most of the cult's 'church'. "It doesn't work that way." Turn about was fair play. "Couldn't you twitch your nose or something and charm them?"

Sawyer frowned. "You're more like your brother than I remembered."

Sam sighed, feeling slightly guilty for the comment. "Look, _my_ abilities don't work that way. I have death visions, alright?"

"Death visions?" Joshua shook his head. "You Winchesters as a lot have shitty luck, you know." He observed conversationally as he pocketed the tazer and checked his own weapon before sliding it into a black mesh holster hidden beneath his jacket. "Have you ever experienced the overwhelming desire to throw yourself from a cliff?" He asked Sam as he followed him down the steep embankment.

Sam's remorse was quickly fleeing. "No, but Dean's been known to get rid of bodies that way," he replied, hoping to deter any further chit chat with the other hunter. He and Joshua didn't seem to be meshing very well.

"He's rather prickly about certain things, isn't he?"

"No." Sam bristled as he came to a stop by the fence. "He's loyal."

"And you're insinuating that I'm not?" Joshua stopped beside the younger hunter.

Sam shrugged, dropping his bag and pulling out the night vision binoculars again. "Caleb seems to trust you."

"You say that as if he has reason not to."

The younger hunter scanned the area once more. Finding it clear, he bent down to retrieve the wire cutters he would use to gain them access into the fortress. "Caleb knows what he's doing."

"Yet for all his brilliance and expertise as a hunter he managed to get himself poisoned."

Sam stood quickly, using his forearm to slam Joshua against the fence. "Shut up."

"I was only stating simple facts."

"Like the fact you and your buddies beat the shit out of Caleb when you found out he had visions?"

"So that's it?" Joshua rubbed his chest, when Sam backed off with a shake of his head. "You're holding a twenty-year-old grudge that had nothing to do with you. Besides it wasn't about the visions. It was more about the nature of his abilities."

"We don't have time for this." Sam began snipping pieces of the chain-length, not wanting to listen to the other hunter's excuses. Partially because nothing would justify to him what had been done to Caleb, and partially because _his _own abilities were from questionable sources too. "Grab the pliers and start bending these back."

Sawyer sighed. "The ground is muddy, and I didn't expect to be on all fours." Another dour look from Winchester had him kneeling on the earth, complying with a grumble. "Who exactly put you in charge, by the way? I'm senior hunter on this job."

The younger man ignored him, continuing to quickly make haste of the fence. Joshua picked up the pliers and began doing his part. " For what it's worth, I kept Ian and Fisher from killing him that day. A fact that wasn't made easier by his pissy attitude and big mouth."

Sam continued to clip the metal, barely acknowledging Sawyer with a sidelong glance. "So it was his fault?"

Joshua shrugged. "He knew what he was getting into when he entered The Brotherhood. Just as he knew what he was in for when he acknowledged his place as the future Knight."

Sam stopped what he was doing. "What does that mean?"

Sawyer met the younger man's earnest gaze. "I thought you said we didn't have time for this?"

The younger hunter stubbornly held his ground for a long moment, wondering if Joshua would say more. Despite the clueless routine at times, Sawyer was anything but dumb. Like Bobby had implied, the man could be cunning, and although he rarely said the right thing at the right time, the things he did say were often loaded and usually had a hidden agenda.

"I'm sure Caleb will appreciate this bonding moment we're having, even if it is at his expense."

Sam rolled his eyes, not willing to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing he'd risen to the bait. "Whatever."

"Full ride at Stanford, and that's your best comeback." Joshua should his head and clucked. "Sad. Very, very sad."

"Come on," Sam growled, snipping the last piece that would allow them passage. "The cabin's to the east of us."

The tree-line provided them with the cover Sam had hoped for, and luck found them at the back of the 'black widow's' cabin without incident. "I think she's alone," Sam whispered, ducking back down beneath the window of the small cabin.

Sawyer looked at him in surprise. "Not even a roommate?"

"I don't think so. She must rate pretty high up on the head guy's list to score her own place." Maybe she had even been rewarded for getting rid of Caleb.

"That's disappointing." Joshua sighed. "I never got to go to camp as a boy. I was at least hoping to interrupt a pillow fight or a singing and dancing ritual of some sort."

"This isn't a panty raid, you idiot," Sam hissed, shining his flashlight in Sawyer's face. "Focus. If we don't do this right, we could have a whole commune on our hands. And Caleb could die."

The last words seemed to sober the other hunter and Joshua gestured towards the door. "After you, Sam."

"Next time, Dean's coming with you," he growled, shoving off the ground and staying crouched as he made his way towards the door.

"Oh goody," the blond hunter exhaled loudly and followed in his friend's wake. "Because we get along so much better."

Sam crossed in front of the cabin's entranceway and motioned for Joshua to stay on the other side. He figured the only thing they had going for them was the element of surprise and it wasn't like the lovely _Ann _would be expecting anyone threatening to show up on her door.

The blond pulled his gun and gave Sam a nod that he was ready. Winchester stood, glancing over his shoulder before knocking on the door. There were other cabins nearby, but most were dark, with the lights of the main house casting only a faint glow into the center of the compound. It took only a moment for the door to swing open and the young blond woman from Sam's vision to step out. "Micah?" She asked, pulling her robe tightly around her as she peered into the darkness.

"Sorry, but, no." Joshua sprung from his hiding place, surprising Sam with his quickness. He grabbed the girl, efficiently spinning her around so one of his arms came across her delicate throat and his other hand cupped her mouth. "Butch and Sundance at your service," he told her stealthily crossing back over the threshold, making room for his partner to come in and close the door.

Sam swung his weapon around the room, making sure his first sweep had been accurate. To his relief, they were alone.

Ann struggled against Joshua's hold, but the blond hunter was undeterred. "What? You're not glad to see us?" He looked at Sam. "And here I thought The Order of The Solar Temple was all welcoming. In fact, my friend and I thought you might invite us in, offer us a drink." Sawyer tightened his grip across the woman's neck, causing her struggles to increase, the muffled cries becoming more frantic. "Perhaps add a spot of poison for flavor when we're not looking."

Sam put his gun away, dropping his bag from his shoulder. "We need to take her some place we can question her." He pulled out a roll of duct tape. "The longer we're here, the more we risk detection."

Joshua nodded, pressed his lips closer to the blonde's ear. "Now we don't want to hurt you, so when I move my hand, make sure you keep those lovely lips closed."

"Do you understand?" Sam asked her, coming to stand in front of the two. When the girl continued to mumble and fight, the younger hunter lifted his own weapon and pointed it at her. "Shut up!" he snapped, and the woman quieted. He would have felt badly for her but hate and anger now filled her dark eyes, more so than the fear Sam had expected.

"You let out more than a whisper when I remove my hand, and I will break your graceful neck. How's that for an offer you can't refuse?"

"He won't even flinch," Sam added and waited for the girl to give some indication she understood before he put his weapon away. They couldn't risk her alerting anyone. Caleb's life wouldn't be the only one on the line.

Finally she nodded, and Sam jutted his chin for Joshua to move. The blond hunter slid his hand from the woman's mouth, but maintained his hold around her throat. Sam made quick work of fastening the duct tape snuggly over her mouth before grabbing her hands and deftly securing her wrists. "Nice work," Joshua commented. "I take it this isn't your first kidnapping?"

Sam ignored him, grabbing a pillow from the lone bed. He removed the case, yanked Ann forward, and covered her head with the fabric. "I'll carry her, you cover our sixes." The younger hunter didn't wait for a response as he tore a blanket from the mattress, draping it over the woman as if he were covering a statue. He proceeded to wind a length of tape around her effectively pinning her arms to her side before tossing her over his shoulder like a rolled rug. "You ready?" He asked, when Joshua merely stood silent, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Was this method taught in a special Brotherhood weekend seminar? Because I'm quite sure it wasn't covered in our typical training."

Sam merely frowned at him and gestured towards the bag on the floor. "Get the weapons, too. We don't want to leave a calling card."

"Of course not. We'll just sneak a horse head in her lover's bed before daylight."

Sam was afraid it was going to be daylight before they made it back to the car, but despite the girl's futile struggling and Joshua's incessant running commentary, they made it back without incident and in a time that would have impressed his father.

"Where to now?" Joshua looked at him as he opened the trunk and watched as Sam dumped the girl into the trunk along with Sawyer's toys.

"We passed a campground on the way in. It looked deserted."

"So what? We're going to have a fireside chat?"

"You think it would be better to take her back to the motel?"

Joshua frowned as he thought of the tiny town establishment with its paper thin walls and nosy occupants. "I suppose you're right." He sighed. "Besides I'm not sure I would trust your brother in the current situation. I for one do not want to be responsible for disposing of a body."

Sam felt his hackles rise. "My brother isn't a murderer."

"No," Sawyer closed the trunk. "But I've seen him in protective mode. He's not exactly a pacifist." It was one of the things that made him so different from Jim Murphy, and one of the many points he had heard whispered among the brethren.

"He only does what's necessary," the younger hunter defended as he moved to the passenger's side door.

"That's what I'm talking about." Joshua climbed in the driver's side. "What if Ann doesn't want to tell us what we want to know?"

Sam raked his hands through his hair. He hadn't let himself think of that possibility, preferring to let the details of capturing the woman keep his negative thoughts at bay. "We'll think of something."

Joshua gave him a quick look. "Of course we will," he said, starting the car, scattering dust and gravel as he made once more for the main road.

Unfortunately, at the end of their first interrogation attempt neither of them had made much head way with Ann. "What did you give him?" Sam demanded again, storming around the small covered shelter where they had opted to stop. It was at the beginning of a trail head housing a topographical map of the area, a shabby picnic table, and a donations box that sported a broken lock. "Tell us and we'll let you go."

The blonde rolled her eyes at him, and Sam none too gently jerked the duct tape from her mouth yet again. He had removed it when they first arrived but Ann had decided screaming was an appropriate response to being dragged away from her room in the middle of the night. Despite the desolateness of the area, they had shut her up quickly. "Scream again, and I swear I'll…"

"You'll what?" She spat, venomously. "Kill me? I'm prepared to die. My savior will reward me for weeding out the wolf in sheep's clothing."

"Wow. Caleb really knows how to pick them," Joshua observed. "Although she seems to have his number."

Sam gave the older hunter a withering look, before turning back to Ann. "Dying will be easy, lady, compared to what we have in mind." He tried to give it his best Dean spin, but it still came out sounding lame.

"My body is a temple," she hissed. "Desecrate it and you will burn in hell with your friend."

"And what? You'll go to Heaven for murdering an innocent man?" Sam demanded angrily, not having to fake the fury he was feeling.

"He dared to violate the inner sanctum of the Temple. Your innocent friend came to us under a veil of lies, hoping to steal our brothers and sisters from us." Ann smiled, as if she understood the connection the men shared all too well. "How would you like it if we took a brother from you?"

"You could just take it from her?" Joshua suggested suddenly and Sam was brought up short from his advancement on the girl.

He frowned. "What?"

"I've seen Reaves do it," he explained. "Sort of like that whole 'reading' thing. He touches them and retrieves the information. Telepathic hacking."

Sam sighed, understanding what Sawyer was suggesting. "I've never done that."

"It doesn't mean that you can't."

The young psychic had been practicing a few techniques. Caleb had worked with him some, and the notes in Mac's journal had explained the specifics. Mackland had likened it to looking through a person's mental files. He had written exercises for Caleb to follow. It was mental visualization training, but Sam had not tried it on an actual person. "I don't know…"

The blond hunter exhaled, loudly. "Then what, Sam? We could torture her?" He pointed to the knife and tazer they had gotten out for scare tactics. "But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that those methods really aren't our area of expertise. Besides, I'm wearing Hugo Boss and bloodstains are dreadful to get out."

Sam still didn't look convinced. "Fine, we'll take her to Dean and let him handle her. I happen to know he won't mind if his Salvation Army rags are ruined and he might actually enjoy himself in the process."

Ann had the common sense to look a little frightened at the suggestion, as Joshua replaced the tape and started to pull her up from the bench.

"Wait." Sam stopped him. He didn't want to risk taking the girl into town and he wasn't certain his brother wouldn't lose it…especially if the worst happened. "I'll try."

"That's the spirit." Joshua stepped back, waved a hand towards the girl, who was shifting her nervous gaze between the two of them.

Sam took a deep breath, stepping towards Ann. "Hold her still."

Sawyer once again pulled the would be killer to her feet and grasped her arms tightly. "Don't worry, it won't hurt…much."

The younger hunter closed his eyes, placing his hand on the squirming girl's forehead. At first nothing happened, but then Sam concentrated on his breathing. Mac had written one should imagine a door, a lock, and a key. One could gently insert the imaginary key into the lock, turning it to allow entrance. He also wrote there were other ways. Sam saw the door. It came to him in black, red dripping from its frame, and he thought of his brother and Caleb.

He imagined himself raising his foot and kicking the wooden surface. It splintered and slammed open under the force, and he felt the girl jerk beneath his hands. Once inside the rest was easy. Files were a good metaphor for Mac, but Sam preferred books. Ann's mind unfolded like a treasured library and all Sam needed to do was browse through the shelves of tomes to find the one he was looking for.

Sam's life had been spent doing research. It was one of the things that drew him to the law…and it was a part of hunting that he actually loved. Maybe it had been preparing him for bigger things, too.

Mac wrote about how Caleb manipulated his ability to build things-to create-to forge pathways into other's psyches. The other psychic would envision a bridge linking him to what he wanted to access. But as usual, the younger hunter had to discover his own way.

It was natural to imagine a place he had spent so much time in. Sam could work a library with the best of them, and it took him mere moments to discover what he was looking for.

Ann's defenses were weak. Despite her bravado, she was a frightened girl. Crazy, but still vulnerable. The spine of the book was marked Brother Thomas, and Sam only needed to touch it, before the words flooded through his mind.

"Sam!"

Joshua's sharp voice shattered the mental illusion and the young psychic stumbled back away from Ann. An overwhelming sense of vertigo nearly sent him to the ground. "Damn it, Josh!" he snapped, holding his head and trying to regain his equilibrium. It was disconcerting, similar to waking from an intense dream.

"Sorry," the other man growled, "but I thought we agreed to no impromptu body disposals tonight." Joshua gestured to Ann, who was now slumped in his grasp, her ashen face covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

"God…is she still breathing?" Sam reached a trembling hand out to check for a pulse, swallowing back the nausea that assaulted him. "I…I didn't mean…"

"She's alive," Joshua assured him, maneuvering the girl back to the picnic table bench. "The important question is, did you get what we needed?"

"I think so," Sam said, continuing to stare at Ann's still form.

"She fainted," Josh explained, using his knife to free the woman's hands. He tossed the discarded blanket over her shoulders. "We'll call the police and give an anonymous tip that we saw one of the local crazy cult members out sleep walking." When the younger hunter didn't respond, Sawyer sighed. "Look, at it this way, Sam, putting another small crack in an already damaged piece of crystal isn't going to cost you anything."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Did it?"

"No."

"Then perhaps Reaves is the better man for the 'coddling Sammy' job…"

Sam gave him a look that spoke volumes about his feelings for Sawyer's tact, or lack there of. Maybe it stung so much because at that moment Caleb was exactly who Sam wanted to talk to. "You're right," he said, giving Ann one final glance. "We need to get back."

Dean Winchester watched the steady rise and fall of Caleb's chest. His friend still held captive in the cruel, relentless grasp of whatever poison used on him. "Hang in there, Damien," he said softly. "Sammy needs you man. Since Dad's gone, there's not many people left to back me up with the kid."

He swallowed thickly, as thoughts of his father flooded his mind. "Sometimes I can't believe that I'll never see him again…or Jim." Dean raked a hand through his hair, wondering if fate was about to deal him yet another blow. "Although the pastor keeps popping up in my dreams. Wonder what Mac would say about that?"

"Maybe he'd tell me I'm finally losing it. Captain Onehelluva Big Brother is coming apart at the seams." He exhaled, loudly. "If you run out on us too, Damien, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold it all together. Maybe Sammy's not the only one that needs you, man. I've kind of got use to knowing you're around…Not that this means I like you or anything."

Dean shook his head, smiling ruefully as his words sparked an old memory. Seeing as how the present was far too bleak he let his mind pull him to the past where things were much simpler.

"_Don't even think this means I like you." _

"_I know." The eight-year-old sighed in exasperation. "I'm short, annoying and weird-looking," he reported verbatim. "You're only bringing me because anything less than death is better than being cooped up in the apartment with a sick baby for one more minute." _

"_Bingo. All of the above." The older, dark haired boy led them up the subway tunnel, keeping a firm hand on the kid as hoards of people swarmed past them. He felt the boy tense and tightened his grip. "And remember," he continued, "if we see any of my friends, we're practically strangers." _

"_You have friends?" The blond asked, giving the taller boy a sideways grin. _

_With a roll of his eyes the sixteen-year-old shoved him out into the warm, spring sunshine. "And if it's a girl…"_

"_Yeah, yeah. I'm an orphan in the Big Brother mentoring program and you're fulfilling community service. And you hate it." _

"_And what am I serving time for?" the teen prodded. _

"_Knocking over a convenience store." The kid looked up at him like he was an idiot. "You're not supposed to lie."_

"_What? It's not lying, it's inventing a cover, which is a very important skill by the way." He let go of the boy long enough to cover his chest with his hand. "After all, I have an image to protect." _

"_An image as a bad guy?" _

"_Chicks love the bad guys." That statement was met with a blank look and the teen sighed. "Someday you'll get it and then I'll take you to the big boy's playground."_

"_Where are we going today?" _

"_If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise." _

"_But I thought we were just going to get away from Mac and Sammy?" _

_Caleb Reaves, his dark hair whipping around his face in the slightly chilled breeze, stopped just across the street from their intended destination, pulling out what had cost him three weeks worth of allowance. He held the tickets up and waggled them in front of Dean Winchester's face. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Deuce." _

_Dean took the tickets. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he read the emblazoned letters. "We're going to see a ballgame?" _

"_Not just any ballgame, Kid." Caleb rolled his eyes and turned the boy towards the huge arena before them. "We're going to Yankee Stadium to see a ballgame." _

_Dean whistled, "No way." He turned back to the teen, confusion replacing some of the excitement. _

"_Yes way. Just don't tell your dad I took you on the subway or to the Bronx."_

"_But we don't like the Yankees." _

"_Gift horse, Deuce." The sixteen-year-old slapped him on the back of the head. "But I admire your loyalty." Caleb pointed to the tickets again. "Check out who they're playing." _

_Dean's breath hitched and he stared up at the older boy. "The Red Sox?" he said in awe. _

"_If you tear up, Kid, this will so be our last field trip."_

"_I don't cry!" Dean cocked his head. "Crying's for babies." But he couldn't keep the humongous smile off of his face. "Thanks, Caleb! I've never been to a ballgame before. Not a real one." _

_The teen looked around to make sure no one was watching before he reached out and squeezed the kid's shoulder. "Don't mention it, Deuce. And if you play your cards right, this will be just the beginning. There are lots of better firsts than this one." _

"_Really?" Dean asked as Caleb guided them across the street. _

"_Trust me. The kind of homerun we'll see here today pales to the kind of games you'll be into when you're older."_

_The statement garnered as much reaction as its predecessor had, and Dean's gaze stayed fixed on the stadium looming before them like King Solomon's treasure. "Can I have a hotdog?" _

_Caleb laughed. "What do I look like, Deuce?" _

_Dean grinned up at him. "My Big Brother. I'm an orphan. Remember?" _

It was true. _Damn it. _Sam had been right about a lot of things. "There's a lot more firsts out there, Damien." Winchester, rested his elbows on his knees, his hands fisted together. There was something about the threat of losing someone that made you remember the strangest things you shared together. "You can't run out yet."

When Sam was sick or hurt, Dean always remembered him as a little boy. Vivid images would come to him. Times like Sam's first step, his first words, or his little brother's tear-filled eyes as he practically had to shove him into the kindergarten classroom that first day of school would flood his mind with all the same clarity as if Dean had experienced them the day before instead of years long past.

With Caleb, ironically, it was always Dean who was experiencing those novel benchmarks. He'd never thought about it before, but the older hunter had picked up the slack on all the forgotten rites of passage his Dad discarded, or had not deemed critical for survival, from his formative years. "Remember the first time you gave me tequila?" Dean smiled, as he easily recalled the wicked headache and groveling at the porcelain tank of the rat-infested motel he and his family were staying in. "I thought _I'd_ been poisoned."

The blond hunter leaned forward when Caleb moved restlessly under the blankets, pulling at his shirt. Dean caught his hand, grasping it tightly to settle him. "You told Dad I'd eaten bad chicken salad from a convenience story." He snorted. "Like he was going to buy that. I inherited my cast iron stomach from him. If I remember right, you had a whole hell of a lot of PT to do that day."

Dean let his other hand rest against the psychic's forehead, frowning when it seemed warmer than it had only moments before. Caleb's fever had dropped some after Joshua's sleazy doctor friend had provided treatment, but just as Sam had pointed out before, like the morphine, it wasn't a cure. The band-aid tactics were slowly losing their effect, as evident by the lines of pain once again present on the older man's face.

Dean sat back in the chair he'd pulled close to the bed. He sighed, rubbing at his weary eyes and shooting a quick look to the digital clock. It was nearly nine. Joshua and Sam had been gone almost two hours. It had been hard to let his brother go with the other hunter, but he couldn't be in two places at once. And Sawyer was smart enough to know what would happen to him if he crossed that invisible line.

His eyes went back to Caleb and he continued on with the one-sided conversation, making sure the other hunter knew someone was with him. "Then who could forget the first time we hustled pool together. I gotta' admit, we were a force to be reckoned with. So what if we got our asses kicked by that biker gang afterwards. Dad showed no mercy either, making us spar the next morning. I had bruises upon bruises, but all I could think of was the look on Atilla the Hun's face when I made that straight across the alley 'Door to Door' shot. It was so sweet."

"No…" Caleb mumbled, his head moving from side to side. "NO!"

"Hey," Dean moved to the edge of the bed, the reminiscing forgotten. "Caleb? Take it easy."

"I'm sorry…" Caleb muttered. "I…failed."

The younger hunter couldn't take the uncharacteristic lost tone, or the intermittent whimpers of pain any longer. He reached out and shook the older man. "Wake up, Reaves," he said, adopting the one tone he new the psychic wouldn't resist if possible. It was an order worthy of John Winchester. "I mean it damn it! Snap out of it."

Dean got his wish, but the tormented eyes blinking up at him had him questioning his selfishness. He lowered his voice. "Hey, hey, you're okay. It's okay."

"Dean…" Caleb appeared frightened and confused. "I'm…sorry," he stammered, pulling away. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything." Dean's frown grew as Caleb's distress increased. "This isn't your fault."

"I let you down…you and Sammy. Dad…too. And Johnny... I can' t do this alone."

"You're not alone."

Caleb grasped at his jacket, seeming confused when his hand met with something solid. "I'm not…the demon's here."

Dean sighed, gripping the psychic's wrist. "No he's not, Caleb. It's the fever." Dean tried desperately to erase the fear he could see, fear he himself had felt in the past. "I'm here. Just you and me, man. Nothing's getting past me. I got you covered. I swear."

"You look good for a dead guy…" Caleb swallowed, sounding more like himself than he had since the ordeal had started. He let go of Dean's arm, with a pat. "I'm sorry…" he said again, forlornly. "It…should have been me, Deuce."

"I'm not dead!" Dean grabbed hold of his hand again, sensing the older man was slipping away.

"I don't want to do this alone..."Caleb mumbled, his gaze growing distant. "I can't fight it anymore…I'm tired."

Panic seized the younger hunter. "I'm not dead, damn it. Sam is fine. Mac is okay, too. We're all here," he said forcefully. "Waiting for you."

Caleb frowned, shaking his head in denial. "But…the demon…"

Dean wasn't sure if the monster was all in his friend's head or if the poison was some kind of link to the thing that had already stolen entire pieces of his life. At the moment it didn't matter. Yellow Eyes wasn't getting one more thing that was important to him. "Demon's lie! You know that. First rule Bobby taught us all. Don't believe the bastards. They use our own thoughts and fears against us. Come on, Damien, you of all people understand what that thing is capable of doing."

"But…" Caleb looked so lost and hurt but Dean had no idea how to help. "I have the rings…"

"Not mine." Dean held up his hand, silver flashing. "I have it. And Jim's, too. Remember, you gave it to me?"

"Not here…"Caleb winced, his body trembling as the poison tried to drag him back under. "You're not…here. I can't get back."

"Of course you can." Dean didn't know why the words came to him, but they echoed so loudly through his mind, that he couldn't not say them. "Just over the New River Gorge, Dude. Earth be spanned…right? You once told me you could cross anything with a bridge."

"Bridges," Caleb said and Dean was almost certain he caught a hint of the usual spark that lurked in his best friend's gaze just before the older hunter's eyes slid shut once more.

"Damn it," Dean growled, as he checked Caleb's pulse and found it as erratic and fast as it was when they first got there. He knew time was running out. "Come on, Sammy. Where the hell are you?"

As if his words were enchanted, there was a thud at the door and Dean heard voices. His brother's voice. "What is this stuff?" Sam was complaining as he and Joshua piled through the door, carrying several bags. He stood, completely sold on the idea of dropping Sawyer where he stood if he'd stopped once again for takeout.

Then the smell hit him. "Damn. That cult build their castle on a land fill?"

"No," Sam complained. "Joshua had to stop at an old friend's house."

"And what? Clean out their sewer system?"

"It's a very important ingredient." Joshua didn't explain further as he took the bags from Sam and started towards the bathroom, to perform his craft in secrecy.

"Ingredients for what?" Dean asked his brother.

Sam pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the chair. "It's a long story." He walked towards the bed. "How is he?" Caleb looked worse than when he had left.

"I don't know, man." Dean slid his hands through his hair. "His fever's back up. Did you guys find the girl?" He frowned. "Where is she?"

The younger hunter couldn't stop the involuntary gulping action as he glanced towards his brother. "I…uh…"

"You what?" Sam was looking like he used to when Dean would catch him sneaking cookies before dinner. "Sammy?"

"We found her, but she didn't want to cooperate."

"Most killers aren't real helpful, Columbo."

"She…" Sam hesitated. "I had to take the information from her."

"And that means?"

"It means…" Sam glanced to Caleb, wishing the other man was there to fill in the gaps. Some of it Sam himself still didn't understand. It was all like a bad dream. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad." Dean shook his head. "Spill."

The younger man sat down on the side of the bed by Caleb, hoping to maybe absorb some kind of explanation. He looked up at the blond hunter. "She was crazy, kept calling Caleb a wolf in sheep's clothing…saying she would be rewarded for what she had done to him." He swallowed hard. "Joshua said that I could get the information telepathically."

Dean's frown deepened. "Do you know how to do that?" And since when did his brother listen to Sawyer.

"Kind of." Sam shrugged, his eyes moving to Caleb again. "I read about it in the journal."

The older Winchester could read the look on his brother's face. Apparently things hadn't gone smoothly. "Did you get what we needed?"

"Yeah."

Dean nodded, confidently holding his kid brother's unsure gaze. "Then you did the right thing-the only thing you could have."

"But.." Dean hadn't seen the girl's face-felt her pain. He didn't know Sam had felt a surge of power when he'd so easily ripped away what she had denied them, or even worse that he had felt a modicum of sweet revenge.

"No buts, Sammy. This is family. We have to save Caleb." It wouldn't be like Jim or their father. He wouldn't allow it. "Besides, sometimes the hardest thing is the right thing."

Sam held his gaze; his brother's unnerving ability to say just what he needed to hear still shocked him. "Yeah."

"So…shouldn't we call sleazy Rodney?" Dean jutted his chin towards Caleb. "He doesn't have much time. We need to hurry." The truth was Dean couldn't take much more either.

Sam shook his head. "Joshua thinks he can counteract it. Some of the ingredients didn't make sense to me, but he recognized them. It wasn't your typical poison."

"Black magic?" Dean palmed his tired eyes. "That doesn't make a lot of sense unless this cult _is_ involved in some demonic stuff."

"Joshua said it was old school stuff…he called Missouri."

"Missouri?" The older hunter gave his brother a surprised look. "Why?"

"She's the expert on the whole herbs thing."

Dean sat down across from his brother, dropping his hand to Caleb's forehead. He sighed when he could feel the heat through his fingers. He glanced up at his brother. "Do you ever get the feeling we missed the forest for the trees, Sammy?"

Sam looked at him. "Like the whole Knight-Triad thing?"

His brother nodded. "I never even asked Dad about it. I figured he'd tell us when he wanted to, when the time was right…and then time ran out."

"I say we make _him_ tell us when he wakes up." Sam glanced to Caleb again. "If he's the new Knight, then he'll know about the Guardian and the Scholar," he gestured towards the bathroom. "And the Wizard."

Dean paled. "Joshua's in the Triad?"

"No, I don't' think so." Sam rubbed at his head, where a hint of pain was blossoming. "Mac wrote about Missouri being a consult to the Triad. He called her the Witch and I don't think he meant it in a derogatory way."

That made a weird kind of sense. "So there were things in the book about the whole Triad thing?"

"Not much, and not enough to make heads or tails of." Sam rubbed at his head again, wincing as a shard of light pierced through his mind. He felt his heart quicken and he swallowed thickly, denying the tell-tale signs of the impending pain.

Dean licked his lips. "If Caleb took Dad's place…then what about Jim?" Reaves had asked for the Guardian. There was no way he could deliver Jim, but if there was another, then the younger hunter would find him. Maybe he could save not only Caleb but Sam, too.

Sam raised his gaze to meet his brother's, intending on answering him- when he was saved from confessing he was clueless by the vision that struck.

_Caleb was kneeling before a door, a line of salt lay out in front of him. Beyond the wooden structure something pounded fiercely, demanding entrance. _

_Sam watched as the dark haired hunter bowed his head, looking down at his open palm which was covered in blood. In fact, the red liquid seemed to be flowing freely from an unseen wound. _

_The door shook and then splintered in an impressive showering of wood and metal. Caleb didn't even move, only clenched his hand to his heart, looking up at the darkness that flooded through the missing door. _

_Sam wanted to scream for him to move as a dark-skinned man entered into the room. The younger psychic had expected the glowing eyes of a monster, perhaps the twisted face of a familiar friend who had been violated. But it was a stranger who lifted the sword above his friend's head._

_Caleb looked up then, glaring defiantly at his enemy before a cold grin of his own crossed his rugged face. _

_And then, in a flash of bright, white light the sword arced through the air, fatally piercing the Knight's heart. _

The sound of Caleb's cry of pain mixed with the sound of his brother's voice calling his name. Sam gasped loudly as he found himself back in the motel room. Dean was gripping one of his arms, but his attention was being shared with the sick hunter who was moving restlessly again.

"I'm okay," Sam choked, trying to forget the image of what he had just seen.

Dean didn't look convinced and didn't let him go. "You and your wonder twin again?"

The younger man shook his head. "No. It was a vision." At least it had the same effect as his typical clairvoyant episode. He winced, rubbing at his forehead. "Damn."

"And?" Dean helped him up from his knees, easing him back onto the empty bed.

The look on his face must have told all because his brother let him go. He moved back to Caleb's side. "No." He shook his head. "No fucking way that's happening."

"Dean..." Sam started and his brother held up a hand, continuing to move away from him.

"Don't, Sam. He's going to be fine."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Joshua chose that moment to come busting out of the bathroom, the horrible smell accompanying him.

"Is that the potion?" Sam asked, slowly standing back up. He knew he was jumping at the chance to change the subject and erase the lingering feeling of grief.

"Potion?" Sawyer scoffed bitterly. "This is a delicately balanced chemical equation of pure genius."

Dean stood and critically eyed the plastic cup Joshua was proudly holding. "It's a steaming cup of stinking sludge is what it is and if you think I'm letting you pour that into Caleb, you've lost your fucking mind."

"It may not look appetizing, but I assure you that you don't have a clue as to what Caleb needs at this point."

"Why? Because I don't have a wand and pointy hat?"

The older blond stepped towards Dean. "I'm going to remember that you're under a great deal of stress and let that remark slide under the radar." He shot Dean a glance. "And I won't be doing the pouring, you will. Knight or not, no vomit touches these shoes. They're from the Bruno Magli collection."

Sam could see the emotions raging through his brother's green eyes. He didn't trust many people, and when it came to him or Caleb that number probably dropped profoundly. "He knows what he's doing, Dean."

"He better," the older Winchester growled.

"Just remember what I said...one miracle per year." Joshua held the cup out to him with a baleful look.

"I suggest you pray that your batting average improves." Dean took the elixir, grimacing as he got a better look at it. "I'd pray real hard, Sawyer," he threatened.

The older hunter stepped back as Sam moved in to help his brother. He maneuvered behind Caleb, lifting him up to a semi-sitting position.

"Come on, Caleb." Dean patted the other man's face, hoping to rouse him, hoping not to have to do it the hard way. "Time for a nightcap."

When the older man merely mumbled something unintelligible, Dean sighed. "Okay, I don't blame you. But this is for your own good, Damien." He grabbed the older man's face, forcing his lax jaws open.

Sam saw his brother hesitate. "Sometimes the hardest thing and right thing are the same," he reminded him.

Dean nodded, grimly. He tilted Caleb's head back, pouring the foul-smelling drink down his throat. The psychic struggled, coughing some of it back up and onto his shirt. Tossing the cup aside, Dean forced the older man's mouth shut, covering his lips and nose with his hand until Caleb was forced to swallow the antidote to ensure his next breath.

When he was certain his friend had indeed ingested the liquid, Dean let him go, swallowing back his own urge to be sick. Sam was looking at him with an expression similar to the time he'd brought a half-dead baby rabbit to him to be healed. It felt as if he had just snatched Caleb from the jaws of death, as his brother had torn Bunnicula from Atticus Finch's canines, but to a better end result he hoped. "It's okay," he heard himself saying, without conscious thought. Sam was holding onto the psychic in the same intense way he'd held that broken rabbit all those years ago, and Dean felt his eyes sting. "A little rest and he'll be good as new." Too bad Jim wasn't there to lead them in prayer. Not that Dean was sure he believed in anything anymore, but having the pastor grip his hand and whisper his magic words would have been a comfort just the same.

"Well, then, I guess I'll be going." Joshua broke the moment with his cheerful announcement. "If I hurry I can still make my date."

"You're leaving?" Dean turned and glared at him."Now?"

"I've done my duty," Joshua defended. "And I'm sure you two can handle things from here." He moved around the room picking up his things. "But do let me know how it turns out."

"Dean," Sam warned, as he watched his brother tense.

"Oh we'll be in touch." The oldest Winchester stepped towards Sawyer. Especially if things went South. "I'll be sure and leave a message."

Joshua nodded, quickly making his way towards the door. "Make sure you do."

The younger hunters watched him go, and Sam exhaled loudly. "Dick head."

Despite himself, Dean laughed. His brother sounded five again. "You always did have his number, Sammy."

"No way. I don't get the guy at all." Sam eased Caleb back down on the bed, pushing his sweat-soaked hair back with another sigh. "One minue he's okay, and the next he's a jerk. How could he just leave without knowing what was going to ..."

Sam didn't get to finish because Caleb groaned then, his body suddenly arching off the mattress.

Dean flashed his brother a look, making his way back to the older psychic's side as their friend began to breathe harshly. "Didn't know, my ass!" he snapped. "The sonofabitch knew exactly what was going to happen."

As the youngest Winchester watched Caleb battle against whatever the 'antidote' was doing to him, he had to hand it to Joshua. The man was many things, but he wasn't dumb. If the look on Dean's face was any indication, Sawyer wouldn't have been safe to wait it out with them. "Dean?"

His brother didn't answer him , fighting to keep Caleb on the bed, as the man writhed against his invisible attacker. "Goddamnit. I shouldn't have trusted that bastard." The words were heavy with guilt and self-recrimination.

"Dean, it could..."

"It could what, Sammy? Be worse?" He gestured to the psychic, who was curled into himself as if trying to hide from the pain. "I'm so sick of this shit."

Sam wasn't sure if his brother was referring to the last six hours of hell or the hell that the last twenty years had brought them. "Me too," he whispered, trying not remember the look on Caleb's face, the one from the latest vision. He knew he was about to die, and he had relished the release it would bring.

"It's okay, Caleb." Dean was leaned over the other man, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. It hurt to watch...awkward and unnatural. Dean and Caleb were never more ill-suited for a situation such as the one they were in.

His brother turned a tortured gaze to him when Caleb called out for their father and then Mac. "What can we do?"

The question caught him by surprise. He felt his mouth open, but no words formed. He felt like he was letting his brother down.

"Deuce..." The choked name let him off the hook as Dean's focus went back to the hurting psychic.

Caleb was looking at him, although glassy-eyed. "Hey," Dean took his hand, grasped it firmly. "I'm here. Take it easy."

"He's here...I can't..."

Dean frowned, not understanding the fevered rambling. "Shhh, no one's here. Just me and Sammy."

"He'll...kill the Knight..." Caleb was overcome, by another merciless wave of pain. He inadvertently pulled Dean closer as he buried his face into the pillow, muffling his scream. "Guardian...will be vulnerable."

"Hey!" Dean snapped. 'The Knight's not going anywhere, Damien. Do you hear me?" He spared his brother a quick desperate glance. "Call that doctor, Sam. Now!"

Caleb's words held Sam's rapt attention, his brother's demands taking a back seat to the vivid flashback of the Knight being felled by his own sword. "No," he whispered.

"No?" His brother barked, clinging tighter to Caleb as he felt the tremors start to wrack his body. What the hell had they done?

"It's too late for that," Sam whispered, feeling the first tear slip down his face, hope fleeing along with it. He met his brother's imploring gaze and felt it pierce his own heart. "It's too late."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey everyone, the end is here. Tidia and I collaborated and wrote this part together. It brings both our stories to a mutual end and ties everything together with a pretty red bow. At least we hope so. I want to thank Tidia for making this such a fun project. Her writing inspired me and I want to send another big thanks to all those who reviewed even though alerts did not work the entire time we were posting. Sigh. I hope it was worth the wait!

"_**Courage, it would seem, is nothing less than the power to overcome danger, misfortune, fear, injustice, while continuing to affirm inwardly that life with all its sorrows is good; that everything is meaningful even if in a sense beyond our understanding; and that there is always tomorrow."**_

_**-Dorothy Thompson**_

_**SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS**_

_"You lose. I win." The demon repeated again. _

_"Shut up! You suck!" He yelled at the demon, then noticed the older hunter had covered his head with his hands in confusion. Caleb tried to calm down and remove the panic from his voice. "Not you, me, whatever."_

_The aged Reaves pulled his hands down and wiped his face. The salt line was becoming thinner. Whatever was on the other side of the door wanted in. _

_"That's right. Ignore what's behind door number three." Reaves pondered the problem, trying to come up with a solution to help them both. There was another loud bang against the door causing a hairline crack to form. "Umm, okay, think faster, buddy."_

_The line was dangerously fine. Caleb didn't dare even breathe on it, scared of the lack of protection. The future Reaves seemed to have the same reaction. But there was a gleam in his amber eyes, and Caleb knew an idea was brewing, a chance at life._

_The future Caleb placed the rings in a row up against the salt. He seemed unsure._

_"You will fail!" The demon said forcefully._

_"Do it! Do it!" Caleb tried to override the demon. They had nothing to lose, the salt line was gone. _

_The aged Reaves looked up as if wishing for a blessing and then placed his ringed hand down completing the row of silver bands. _

_For a moment there was silence. Then a glow from one ring caught on to the next and then to its neighbor. A thick bright line formed, like a laser beam. It continued to grow. Caleb could no longer make out his future self. The rings had created a barrier, which basked the door in white energy. _

_The demon howled as the light became brighter. Caleb looked away as they were all enveloped. He screamed as the blinding light penetrated his being, making him feel like he was breaking apart and being absorbed by the light. _

_**SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS**_

The light seemed to penetrate Caleb's very being, making him white hot. He didn't know how long he languished in the state, as the light dissipated. He felt as if he was floating voices penetrating the cocoon but the words undistinguishable.

He felt a coolness, and it beckoned him forward. But the coolness seemed deceiving. It was a struggle. He tried to breath, remembering to take a full breath. It was uncomfortable. Then he felt hands holding him. But, he was not going to be held back. It was time, his future self had made the sacrifice, and it would not be in vain. He pushed back at the invading hands, jackknifing to a sitting position.

"I win!" A blanket undulated to his waist. Caleb fell back; strength fled his body, leaving him again gasping for air. He tried to turn to crawl away from the demon and his future when he felt the cool hand on his shoulder.

"You win what?"

Caleb blinked, trying to clear his head and watery eyes. He turned his head with a groan as he felt the stiffness in his muscles. He wondered what other tortured spirits would come to him but there sitting on his bed was Dean Winchester.

Standing behind him, with wet dripping hair and a towel draped around his neck was Sam Winchester.

"God, he got to you too…"

"What?" Dean looked at his brother.

"No, Caleb, it's us. We're alive and you are too." Sam explained, remembering Reaves death in his vision, and reassuring him that the brothers had not crossed over either. Caleb had returned to the living.

The older hunter grinned at them, feeling their true presence, not some shadow of a dream. He looked around the tacky motel room with its putrid burgundy décor. It was in the motel in his current reality with no demon in tow.

The vestiges of a fever seemed gone as his body was covered in a damp sweat. He was still weak, and closed his eyes. "Great. It's Heatmiser and Snowmiser." He commented still with a grin he couldn't seem to contain. He felt safe. He could not sense any malevolent spirits in the room.

Dean patted his leg and Caleb relaxed back. "Well, Heatmiser and Snowmiser just saved your ass."

Caleb opened his eyes again. He distinctly recalled his battle with the demon. Technically, his future self's battle with the demon. "Did not."

"Did too."

"You're welcome," Sam said breaking the impasse. He took a seat on the other bed.

Caleb raised his hand, waving the brothers away. Both looked weary and relieved. He had a nagging suspicion they had helped him to fight back, to not lose hope. All in all, it was comforting they had come for him. "Yeah, we're so far from even." His voice was gravely from disuse and yelling. His eyes closed on their on volition again, but he fought his body's desire to drift back to unconsciousness. "What happened?" He blinked, giving his head a slight shake to clear the rest of the fog.

"You were poisoned. . ." Sam began.

"Yeah," Reaves interrupted him. "That part I know. The rest? Like how you got here?"

Dean pointed to his brother. "Psychic hotline."

"Way to go, Sammy." Resting back against the pillows he noticed he was feeling better as each minute ticked by –alive. He hadn't remembered calling out to Sam, but if he had it was a wonder the young man had picked up the psychic nuance. He frowned, worrying about the youngest Winchester and his future.

He coughed and scrunched up his nose. What was that smell? "I need a drink." He stated. Dean passed him a bottle of water with the cap removed, and helped to lift him to a seated position. He rolled his eyes as the brothers doted on him, but he had to admit he felt weak. He must have given them quite a scare since they were still looking at him in disbelief as if he would vanish before their eyes. "That's a start." He took a gulp, finishing off the water in a few large swallows. "BooneDocks is the next town over."

Sam stared at him, slack jawed. "You can't be serious! We thought you were going to die."

In fact they had been sure of it. After Caleb had gone limp in Dean's arms, his breathing had all but quit-his pulse slowing to an almost undetectable staccato. Dean had tried to call Sawyer's doctor, but Rodney's analysis of the blood work had turned up nothing He once again offered to admit Reaves, but both brothers realized the battle couldn't be aided by medical means. They were forced to trust in what they had done-to trust Joshua. As the night crawled by neither had left the psychic's side, unwilling to abandon their sentry. But in the early hours of morning, the psychic's fever had broken, giving them hope. A hope that had grown stronger as daylight cast a brighter light on the situation and Caleb's condition continued to improve.

"But, I didn't and we should celebrate," Caleb announced, breaking the brothers' reverie.

He squirmed up, pushing away Dean's assistance. He felt like he could stay in bed for a week, but he had things to do, promises to keep and evil to thwart. "Deuce, stop your hovering and pass me my phone."

The younger hunter shook his head at the man's stubbornness, but stood and moved across the cramped room. He threw the small cell phone at the older hunter. "You're resting up before we go to any bar." Dean glanced at his brother. "I'm going to take a shower. Make sure he doesn't move out of that bed."

Reaves ignored the young hunter. There were only two things on his mind-his father and a shower of his own. "Don't use all the hot water," he called after Dean who let the slamming of the bathroom door suffice as his reply.

Caleb scrolled through his numbers and hit send. Mac answered after two rings. "Hey, Dad, Merry Christmas." He cleared his throat as he felt overwhelming emotion for his father swell. "So, I was thinking that maybe we could spend it together?" He heard his father pause, then answered the question with a snort. "No, I'm fine."

"Sure, for a person who was poisoned and almost died." Sam quipped, saying it loud enough that Caleb thought for sure his father had overheard it. He glared at the younger Winchester brother.

"What?" Reaves replied to his father, who had not heard Sam. "Isn't it perfectly normal to want to spend the holidays with your family?" Caleb saw the younger psychic rolling his eyes; he shrugged his shoulders in response. "Virginia. Great, I'll tell them. See you soon. Oh, and tell Naomi, Merry Christmas."

He hung up the phone with a smile, knowing Mac would be slightly freaked by the Naomi comment. It was good to keep the doctor on his toes.

"After Deuce is done I'll take a shower and then we need to check out of here." He hoped the same motel clerk wasn't still on duty. Either way, he wanted out. The room truly was emanating a strange odor, which Caleb hoped didn't linger on his clothes too. He shifted his legs so they touched the burgundy carpeted floor. He sat there for a moment as a wave of lightheadedness overwhelmed him.

Sam was there instantly, gripping his forearm. He looked down at the bond, and then into the eyes of the youngest Winchester. "I'm not going anywhere, Sam."

"I know." Sam stated with purpose and a patented John Winchester look for good measure. Damned if the kid didn't remind him more of his father everyday. Caleb's gut twisted as he thought of his mentor.

"You're getting cocky there, runt."

"And you're getting back in bed." Sam let him go, but stood his ground, folding his arms over his chest.

Reaves snorted but complied. Despite the fact the adrenaline from waking alive and victorious had abandoned him; he made a show of acting perturbed at the coddling. "I'm fine, goddamnit."

Sam rolled his eyes. The man acted more like his father each day. "Well, only a few hours ago you were dying."

Caleb threw him a look. He didn't remember much of the last twenty-four hours except for what he assumed had taken place mostly in his head. The presence of Pastor Jim and John had seemed so real….and the demon. A shiver ran through him involuntarily. He exhaled loudly in frustration as Sam placed a cool hand on his forehead. "Are you cold? You still feel warm."

"Sam, I'm good." Reaves ducked away from the touch. "Next thing I know, you'll be offering to give me a sponge bath."

Sam's mouth twitched and Caleb groaned. "Tell me you didn't."

"We were trying to save your life, jerk." The smirk grew into a dimpled grin. "Liked the new ink job, by the way."

"Thanks," Reaves growled, but then lowered his voice. He looked down at the ring on his finger and then back up at the younger hunter. "And thanks."

Sam frowned, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "For what?"

Caleb tapped his forehead. "For hearing me." He sighed. "I don't remember trying to reach out to you, but the fact you picked up on it…"

"What?"

"Your abilities kick ass, Sam."

The younger man turned his head, but not before Caleb picked up on the guilty look in the hazel gaze. "Did something else happen?"

Sam gave him an irritated glance and Reaves raised his hands. "I wasn't snooping. Trust me, my head's in no shape to be playing psychic hide and seek, kid."

"The girl…" Sam started and then licked his lips, taking a deep breath before continuing, "the one that poisoned you."

"Yeah." Caleb raked a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "Saint Ann. What about her?" His frown grew. "She didn't come here did she?" The idea that he had underestimated the bitch made him angry, but the thought that she might have tried something with Sam or Dean pissed him off.

"No. I went to the compound."

"You did what?"

Sam ignored the look of disapproval, continuing with his story, at least the abbreviated version. " I couldn't get her to tell me what she used on you." He searched the other man's gaze. "So, I took it from her."

Reaves nodded, letting go of his lecture on the danger of the Solar Temple freaks for the time being. He remembered all to well what the other man was going through. In fact his first attempt at something like that had nearly cost Sam his life. "I almost killed you trying a similar move. I mean I wasn't taking anything, but…"

Sam recognized the flash of pain in the amber gaze. "You were trying to save my life."

"Right. It didn't make seeing the end result any easier though, and I know it's not the same, but sometimes you take a risk to do what's important. And as time goes by you will get more control."

"It…I mean…"

"It was a rush." Again Reaves nodded in understanding. "That's normal, Sam." He gestured to their surroundings. "As normal as it's going to get for us."

"But I wanted to hurt her."

"Kid…" Caleb sighed, recognizing another struggle he still dealt with himself. What if they were evil? What would it take to cross that gap between right and wrong? Would he someday cross that bridge? "You're not a monster, and you're not going to become one. If you had really wanted to do some damage, she would be dead." He raised a brow, when Sam glanced up at him. "She's not having Christmas with her beloved maker is she?"

The younger hunter shook his head. "No."

"Good. Because she deserves to live in hell with that creep Solomon for a while longer."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"As long as it has nothing to do with how I'm feeling."

Sam grinned. "No. It's about visions."

"Okay. That I can handle. Shoot."

"Do they always come true?"

A hint of fear raced through the younger man's gaze and Caleb wished he had the energy to reach out and brush through his thoughts. "Not always."

"How do you know…if they're warnings or memories or something else?"

Caleb laughed. "Those sound like Mackland Ames questions."

"I've been reading the journal."

"Good. That's why I gave it to you."

"Not because you're planning on doing anything stupid?"

"Like getting myself poisoned by a cult?"

Sam glanced towards the bathroom, his voice lowering. "Dean was worried. In fact, it's him you should thank. He didn't leave your side, not even when we knew you were getting better." He met Caleb's gaze again. "I don't want to see him hurt. He's still screwed up over Dad and Jim. I can't lose him, too."

Reaves thought back to what the demon had said, the future he had shown him. He knew exactly how Sam felt. "I'm not going to do anything to risk Dean, Sammy. I promise." He thought about what his carelessness had put the Winchesters through. In his new position, he would have to be more careful. There was too much at risk. Steps had to be taken to prevent The Brotherhood from being weakened. A new generation had to be prepared. That meant the Scholar and Guardian had to be protected. "I'm not going anywhere." The Knight would not fall, not without one hell of a fight.

"Good. I'm glad we're clear on that."

Caleb grinned, feeling a balance start to settle between them. "So, can I have my pants now?"

Dean drove the Impala with Caleb in the passenger seat. Sam followed behind in Reaves's Jeep. The psychic felt well enough to leave, but not strong enough for Dean to trust him behind the wheel of a car.

"Take a right," Caleb said, directing Dean to their destination.

The older Winchester took the right sharply. Caleb knew something was brewing without his psychic abilities. Dean spared a glance then stated, "You had us worried, man."

Reaves felt guilty adding to Winchester's burden. He tried to downplay the situation. "You? Worried? I don't believe it."

"Believe it." Dean shook his head, then glanced in the rearview mirror to check on his brother. "No hunting alone, you know the rules."

Caleb suppressed a smile. The older Winchester had spoken like a Guardian, his destiny. "I had backup."

"Us, saving your ass at the last moment, is not backup." Dean frowned. "And neither is Josh. His phone tag system sucks."

"He's an idiot, but he is part of The Brotherhood." The psychic saw their destination up ahead. He didn't want to comment further. "We're here."

Sam pulled in right behind them. They couldn't miss the BooneDocks. It was decked out with blinking lights, and steady lights of every different color. A large banner over the door proclaimed 'Merry Christmas, Christ is Born Today' and there was large Christmas tree taking up one full parking space.

The younger Winchester threw the Jeep's keys to the psychic. "Quite a place. Very, umm, festive." Sam looked around, taking in the tacky display of holiday cheer.

"They're not into political correctness." Boone and his girlfriend ran the place, and didn't like it when people got into their business. So when the locals wanted places of business to go with non-denominational decorations, the BooneDocks retaliated. "They don't care who they offend." Reaves led the way inside the bar, where the windows glowed invitingly.

Although it was Christmas Eve, surprisingly the bar was doing brisk business. Boone was tending bar. "Boone, I brought you some old friends." The red headed, bear of a man hadn't changed except for the strands of intermittent white in his beard and hair. Boone looked at the brothers without recognition. It had been almost twenty years. "These are the Winchester boys."

"Well, I be damned." The big man held out his hand, Sam accepted it readily. "You're all grown up, Sammy."

"Happens—milk does a body good," Dean said as he also accepted the handshake.

"Dean." Boone bowed his head. "Sorry, about your father, boys. He was a hell of a good man."

There was an uncomfortable silence, both boys still dealing with the death and its repercussions.

Reaves cleared his throat. "They've been going to the Roadhouse."

Boone frowned. "Why would you want to do that? That place sucks." He lifted his burly arms out wide. "You're always welcomed here."

"Thanks, man," Dean replied. He cocked his head to a table in the corner and headed over there with his brother.

Reaves leaned over the bar to speak in low tones to the retired hunter. "That lead didn't pay off. Steer far away from that group."

Boone stepped back and studied the psychic's appearance. "That bad?"

"Yeah," Caleb nodded, reminding himself to stand up straight and show no weakness. He didn't mention the poisoning. Although the BooneDocks was filled with more lightness, less hidden corners and suspicious backrooms, Caleb couldn't risk taking anyone, but a select few, into his confidences. More than likely the red headed man could be trusted, but Reaves did not wish to put him at risk or others. Joshua had originally given him a lead on the cult, and Boone had just confirmed it.

"Sorry, Caleb." Boone sighed. "Drinks on the house?"

In the meantime, Dean and Sam had taken a just vacant table. Dean pushed the glasses and remnants of a meal to one side of the table. They both watched as Caleb talked to Boone in hushed tones.

Dean fished something out of his pocket, laid it on the table and pushed it over to his brother. "Merry Christmas, little brother."

Sam looked at the compass he recalled giving his brother for a Father's Day many years ago. "You're re-gifting? Man, that's tacky."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Well, yeah, umm, I just wanted to say. . ."

The younger Winchester understood. He had given the compass to his brother to show him that he was a guiding force in his life. But, with the death of their father, Dean had become out-of-control with Sam trying to rein him in and be the moral compass. It was his brother's way of telling him he appreciated it. "You're welcome." The younger hunter fingered the inscription written on the back. "But I didn't get you anything. How about we share it?"

"Man, you're cheap," Dean replied with a grin. "He doesn't know how to share either." He said as Caleb rejoined them.

"What did I miss?" Reaves looked at the twosome in puzzlement, but Dean waved off the inquiry with a chuckle.

"What's Boone's story? I remember him when we were kids." Sam asked, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. There was light colored wood paneling, covered with Budweiser, Miller, Coors and Sam Adams signs. A jukebox played Elvis's rendition of a Blue Christmas. There was buzzing amongst the patrons, who interacted with each other like old friends.

Reaves pulled in his chair closer to the table. "Boone left the hunt, opened this place when he got his girlfriend pregnant."

"Who's that?" Dean gestured to the blonde woman in the white surplice top with ample cleavage. She wore a short denim skirt that came above her knees. She threw a smile at patron, as she cleaned up the table.

"His girlfriend, Kathleen- never married her."

"He's my idol." The older Winchester smirked.

Caleb winked at her. She stopped by the bar, picked up a pitcher and brought it to their table. Reaves snaked out an arm around her waist, forcing her to sit on his lap. "When are you going to leave him and go with someone your own age?"

"Maybe next lifetime, Caleb." She patted him on the cheek. "Boone there is my honey."

Boone wasn't paying attention. Instead he was immersed in conversation with another bar patron.

"How's Riley?" Caleb asked Kathleen about her son, who he hadn't seen at the bar. The teen was a leaner version of his father, the red hair marking him as Boone's.

"My baby? All grown up." She gave a mock sniff, then looked at the boys with pride as she talked about her son. "Got a scholarship to Tufts and wants to spend Christmas in Vermont with his friends."

Sam took a long gulp of beer to push down the lump he felt in his throat. Here was a mother proud of her son's scholarship. He knew John had been proud of him, telling strangers of his achievement. He wished at the time his father could have been honest with him.

"Reaves, are you making my woman cry?" Boone yelled, as he spied his girlfriend sitting on the psychic's lap.

"Happens all the time," Dean interjected with a grin.

Kathleen stood up, and waved at her boyfriend. "Just talking about Riley. . ."

"Kid wants to be fuckin' Indiana Jones and major in Archeology, unbelievable. . ." Boone trailed off his comment, as someone stumbling off a stool got his attention.

"He's coming next week." Kathleen crouched down so her blonde head hovered over the table. "I'll tell him you asked about him." She smiled at Dean and Sam, who were relaxing back with their beers. "Do you all need anything else? Hungry?"

Dean didn't hesitate. "Something fried and dripping with grease would be great."

"I like him." Kathleen said to Caleb. "I'm sure we can help you out."

They watched her walk away.

"Drink up, Sammy. We're going to Virginia."

"You sure you're up for this?" Sam looked at the psychic.

"Wouldn't miss it."

Kathleen interrupted the companionable silence with a few baskets of food-chicken fingers, fries, and jalapeno poppers.

Dean immediately took a chicken finger out of the basket, blowing on his fingers as the hot food burned his fingers.

Sam stood up, and the other two hunters looked at him. "I'm just heading to the bathroom," he explained.

Dean placed the basket of jalapeños in front of him. "Go ahead; we'll talk about you while you're gone."

Sam lifted his middle finger as a retort. Dean and Caleb laughed in response. The youngest hunter made his way through the crowd, catching sight of the glowing 'Outhouse' sign. He had just reached for the knob when the door opened and a man nearly plowed into him.

"Pardon me, son." The dark-skinned man grabbed a handful of the front of Sam's jacket to keep him upright and on his feet. "I'd ask you to dance but I'm not as graceful as I use to be."

Winchester nodded, meeting the man's dark eyes. "That's alright." A sense of déjà vu washed over Sam and he tilted his head slightly, studying the smiling stranger. "Have we met before?"

"I do hope that's not a pick-up line, son."

When Sam's face reddened, the man laughed. "I'm kidding."

Winchester studied the man's face. He was nearly Sam's height and looked close to his father's age, perhaps a few years older. There was a good amount of silver peppering his hair, mustache and goatee, but he seemed fit and sturdy. "Sorry." Sam shook his head apologetically. "You just seemed familiar."

The stranger smiled again and it warmed his penetrating gaze. "Well we're all brothers of sorts. Especially this time of year."

"Right." Sam stepped back, a twinge of energy surging through his head. It was enough to have him glancing back towards his brother and Caleb, thinking perhaps the other psychic had tried to contact him.

"Merry Christmas." The man's well wishes brought the young hunter's gaze back to him.

"Same to you," Sam replied and the stranger inclined his head with another genuine smile before returning to a far booth in the corner, where two other men sat, their backs to Winchester.

"That was dangerous." Griffin Porter felt the boy's gaze follow him back to the table, and he had to admit he hadn't expected the young hunter to have any reaction to their contact. Of course, he would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased. With the right guidance, he would make a strong Scholar.

"You're overreacting, Hastings." He said as he took the bench facing his associates. "The boy was too young to remember me, barely six."

Silas lifted his glass and motioned towards one of the tall tables in the center of the crowded bar. "I guarantee you Reaves would recognize you. Perhaps the older Winchester, too."

"And," Hastings interrupted the other man, "We can't afford that."

Griffin gave the younger man a hard look. "Don't tell me what we can afford, boy. I was playing this game when you were still sucking your mama's tit."

Hastings had the good sense to look away. "It's just that I don't understand why you don't let me take him out instead of playing this stupid game."

"Game?" Griffin sighed. "You think this is a game?"

There was a pause and finally the younger man shook his head. "No, sir."

"Good, because nothing could be more serious than the situation we're facing now. I don't care about your petty rivalry with Reaves, either. There is no place for that."

"He has a point, Griffin," Silas spoke again, running a finger around the lip of his glass. "We could save ourselves some trouble by taking them out now. The Knight is weak, he could…"

"He wears a ring. They all do."

"So, _we_ can't kill them, but we can hire other people to do it for us. What kind of code is that?"

"We didn't hire anyone." Griffin glared at Hastings. "We only supplied intelligence to Mr. Solomon. He chose to do the rest. And if we violate the code, what better are we than the monsters we destroy."

"He had our help," Hastings interjected with a snort, and Porter slammed his fist on the table.

"That was your folly. I told you not to get involved and I won't soon forget your insolence. We can't afford for our hands to get dirty. Do you understand me?"

Hastings nodded. "I understand, Griffin."

"Good. Because if we are going to challenge the proposed Guardian, we're going to have to establish a credible standing with the rest of The Brotherhood."

"You're placing a lot of faith on a wild card, Griffin." Silas didn't want to challenge the man in front of him, knew better than to, but he wanted to make sure his concerns were heard. "Gideon may not choose to do this. He has that annoying sense of loyalty, you know."

"Every Guardian should be loyal, Silas."

"But to whom?"

Griffin smiled, glancing towards the Knight-elect and Murphy's chosen successor. "That is the million dollar question, now isn't it?"

Neither Caleb nor Dean knew they were the topic of conversation at a nearby table. The younger hunter finished off his beer, but didn't refill. He toyed with the glass for a moment. "You remember anything?"

"Remember what?" Caleb had been tipping his chair back, lost in the buzzing in his mind. His psychic abilities were still not in focus. Reaves let the chair hit the floor again, his earnest gaze studying his friend.

The oldest Winchester brother placed the glass down, and pushed it off to the right. "Umm, your little near death experience?"

"I wouldn't call it that." Reaves grabbed his own glass. He didn't want to talk about the images he saw. The psychic was confused himself, and sure as hell wasn't going to share the burden with his friend. But, he felt Dean wanted to talk, and since discussion with the oldest Winchester was rare, Caleb facilitated the conversation. "Some, why?"

Dean's green eyes were haunted with shadows as he faced the psychic. "I don't remember anything from when I was dying . . . I wish I did"

"Deuce, maybe it's not supposed to work like that." Reaves didn't have an answer. There were some things that were a mystery. He wondered about the ramifications of avoiding the grim reaper not once, but twice.

"What if it could help us, help Sam?"

Caleb studied his friend, hearing the hint of desperation. Dean was carrying an additional burden. The psychic had a feeling he knew what it was, not because he was reading Dean, but of what he had deduced over time. What he had gathered about his own deceased family. "Hey, Sam's going to fine. Not every prophecy comes true."

Dean's eyes opened wide then narrowed unsure if Caleb knew John's secret or not. "Yeah, yeah, you're right." He cleared his throat. "By the way, if you're the Knight, Damien, then who's the Guardian?"

Reaves shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This was a discussion Mac, as the Scholar, was supposed to have with Dean. "I, ahh. . ."

"There you are!" Joshua yelled from the doorway, brushing off imaginary snow from his wool coat. Around his neck he wore a Burberry scarf. "You owe me," he stated as he came forward by their table. "Seeing as how you're alive."

"For what?" Caleb scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Almost getting me killed?"

Sawyer's face lit up with a grin. He looked at Dean. "You didn't tell him?"

"Nope." Dean crossed his arms. "I thought you had plans."

"They fell through." The blond hunter shook his head. He was not going to be deterred. "Tell him, go ahead. I want to witness his reaction." Joshua said as he tried to take the seat which Sam had vacated. Dean pulled the chair closer to him. With a sigh Sawyer pulled a chair from another table, getting an indignant "Hey!" from another patron. The man had been using the chair to rest his feet.

Joshua folded his hands together. "If you don't tell him, I will."

Dean narrowed his eyes. A smug Joshua was even less appealing than an idiot Joshua. "Hesavedyourlife." The older Winchester brother blurred the sentence into one incomprehensible word.

"What?" Caleb shook his head.

Dean sighed. The psychic was not going to like the fact that Josh had helped them. He and his brother had left out that little tidbit of information on purpose. "Joshcounteractedthepoison."

Caleb blinked, putting together the phrases. "You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

"No, he's not," Sam said as he returned to the group, taking his seat in between Dean and Joshua. The youngest Winchester gestured to the jukebox. "I think he has every Elvis tune in there."

"A few months ago it was Johnny Cash." Caleb didn't get a chance to come the bar often, but when he did he also noticed a pattern. He grinned, enjoying that Sawyer was being ignored. "Boone's into themes."

Joshua snapped his fingers to get their attention once more. "Hey, I know what you are doing." He pointed at Reaves. "You owe me."

"Owe you what? We're working for the same cause." Caleb pointed to the silver band he wore.

Joshua glanced at his ring. "I went above and beyond. . ."

"You were forced. . ." Dean interrupted.

Sawyer gestured to the Winchester brothers. "They came to my office for god sakes. You know what it took to explain the appearance of Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

"Chevrolet Sucks as I remember." Sam interjected.

Caleb snorted at the insult. He glanced at Dean who rolled his eyes. He had to hand it to Josh, the man was a joy to attack, but every once in awhile they had to throw him a bone. "What do you want?"

Joshua grinned, sensing an opportunity. "Picture of you, 8 by 10, glossy, if you have it."

Reaves coughed. The beer he was drinking spraying out slightly. "Come again?"

Sawyer waved his hands, gesturing it was not for him. "It's for Drew. I haven't presented him with the obligatory Christmas present yet. This will be better than a bonus."

"No fuckin' way." Reaves had met the public relation firm's secretary. He thought the man had even pinched his ass one time too. There was no way Andrew would ever get a picture of him. Caleb took another drink, getting his equilibrium back. "Still all your fault. You gave me the information."

"About that. . ." Josh shifted uncomfortably.

It didn't take a psychic to know that the blond hunter was feeling guilty. "Yeah, about that?" Caleb prompted, not cutting him any slack.

Sawyer glanced around. "I think someone fed me the tip," he said in a hushed tone.

Caleb dropped his head back with a sigh. "To set me up." Damn. Mac had warned him. He just hadn't expected it to start so soon.

Joshua tightened his lips, and gave a quick nod. "Looks like."

"Who would do that?" Sam looked at the hunters in confusion.

"Enemies of The Brotherhood," Dean stated, finishing off his beer. He met Caleb's gaze. "Enemies of The Knight."

Sam wanted to question his brother and the others. He knew the supernatural forces were enemies of The Brotherhood, but it sounded like something more.

Kathleen though interrupted at this point. "Hey Josh, you want one of those fruity drinks?"

Joshua cocked his head, and replied in a condescending tone. "It's a martini and your husband can't seem to make one right. Like I said before, they don't have umbrellas."

"He's **not** my husband." She replied annoyed, and tossed her blonde hair with a huff as she headed back to the bar.

Dean shook his head. "You just spread the love wherever you go, don't you?"

"Shut up. Probably common law husband by this point anyway," Josh mumbled. "Well, if you won't give me a picture," he glanced at Caleb, "then Deuce here still owes me. . .Drew plans on becoming a groupie."

"It's Dean," the older Winchester growled. "LeGrange? The missus was into black magic-a life for a life."

"Ohh. . ." Joshua shrank back, knowing he'd just lost his ace in the hole.

"I don't know Josh. I'm going to have to tell Mac you've been fuckin' up on the intel. Might want to expect a call from him soon." Caleb rubbed his chin and then leaned in. "Can the Scholar take rings away?"

Sawyer leaned away from the psychic, uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you're not dead."

"So what are your plans?" Sam asked, breaking the silence which descended on the table.

"Is that an invite?" Joshua perked up.

Dean laughed. It so wreaked of desperation. "No, not at all." He appreciated that Sawyer had saved Caleb's life, but he still wasn't willing to spend Christmas with the idiot.

Kathleen returned with a martini glass topped off with fruit and five umbrellas. She smiled at the other hunters, and gave them a wink.

Joshua removed the bar paraphernalia from his drink with an indignant huff. "My father is expecting me." He took a swallow and shook his head at the bitterness of the drink. "I should get going." For a moment his eyes glowed with merriment. He sniffed the air around the psychic. "You might want to take another shower, Caleb." Joshua waved at the other hunters. "Merry Christmas."

Reaves inhaled, trying to figure out if that smell from the motel room followed him. "What's he talking about?"

The Winchester brothers looked at each other, but didn't answer. Dean found his voice. "Are you really going to tell Mac?"

"No, like I said, he's our idiot and one of The Brotherhood. Everyone needs a black sheep." Caleb pushed away his glass.

"Mac meeting us in Virginia?" The younger Winchester brother asked trying to remember when was the last time he had seen the neurosurgeon.

"Yeah, says he can't wait to see you."

Dean jutted his chin at Caleb. "Since we're going to be close, maybe we can go to the New River Gorge Bridge?"

Now, it was Caleb's turn to be surprised. He had spoken about the steel arch bridge a few years ago, when they had been trapped in a car accident. "You hate bridges."

The blond hunter shrugged. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Damien."

Caleb still looked puzzled, but he nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Reaves stood up, signaling it was time for them to leave. He was looking forward to spending the next few days together. He felt warm, and content, the memories from his ordeal seeming more and more like a bad dream. Perhaps it was a lull before the storm, but he would take it. "How about you come up to New York City next weekend? Watch the ball drop."

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Dick Clark has to be possessed. Isn't he like 100?" They would all be enjoying New Years in New York City.

The end


End file.
